iCan't Do This
by demondreaming
Summary: Sam can't do this anymore. She can't pretend she doesn't love Carly, and she can't pretend it isn't killing her. SamxCarly, femmeslash, rated M for reasons that will become obvious as time passes.
1. Chapter 1: Shattered Glass

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Pretty easy to remember.**

**Please review, I like it ever so much.**

**A/N: If you like seeing Sam happy, don't read this. Oh! do it anyway!**

My hand goes right through the window and the glass shatters; and the sound seems to rip through everything and leave a vacuum of silence behind where we're all just standing, stunned. And I don't remember going to punch it, all I remember is being angry and the stupid half-wall and window on wheels we were using for an iCarly segment being in my way. And now my hand is through it and there's glass everywhere, and it's not the best decision I've ever made. There's a beat where I can't hear anything and I can't move, and then Carly's taking my hand, moving it out of the window frame and brushing glass off it. And it's like it's then that my heart starts beating again, and blood starts welling from my split knuckles and pattering on the wooden floor. And I can only stand there, amazed at how easily it comes out and how much there is of it and then Carly's moving me and sitting me down and yelling to Freddie but I don't hear the words. It's stupid. It's so stupid. I don't even know why I got so angry anymore. But it was good to feel something that strong that it wiped out everything else. And I can feel now, underneath the aching throb of my hand, the washed out feeling that I usually have. It's like I remember feeling something, a long time ago, but it's gone now, and all I'm left with is a memory and an old t-shirt.

Carly's saying my name. She's saying it over and over and over and touching my face, her fingers flitting against my cheek like a butterfly. So I try and concentrate, because I never want to miss a word she says. "Sam? Sam? Look at me, 'kay? Oh god, there's so much blood." And I want to comfort her and tell her it's okay but for some reason I can't. I can't seem to do anything. Her face is breaking my heart. But then, my heart is used to it, so it's almost comforting. She's turning her face away and I feel sad, and then Spencer's there pressing a wet cloth on my hand, and it stings like hell and makes me hiss.

Somehow we're in Spencer's car, and I don't remember how I got there, but Carly's sitting next to me so it's okay. And I can feel that something's wrong in my head. My thoughts are all slow and stupid and I can't seem to do anything or want to do anything. I hear the word 'shock' being thrown around a lot, so that's probably it, though I don't feel shocked. Just sleepy. I wonder vaguely what's going to happen to all that blood I left at Carly's. And I decide I'll clean it up, I'll clean it all up because at least it's one mess I can fix. And I think I'm saying sorry to Carly, over and over again, and it's making her cry but I can't stop it.

I feel a little better when the stitches are in and they're wrapping my hand up, even though my hand stings and feels like a bunch of raw nerves. I can see Carly off to the side, Pearphone to her ear, and I know she's calling my mom. And I feel like telling her not to bother, because even if my mom was somehow awake and sober, she still wouldn't care. And then she's coming back, and I can tell she couldn't reach her. And even though that's what I expected it still feels like a kick in the gut. But she's smiling and trying to be brave. For me. "Hey Sam, how you feelin'?"

I laughed, "You should see the other guy." And I'm putting on as much bravado as I can at the moment, but it's coming through a little false and she can feel it. Spencer's just sitting off to the side, his fist against his mouth and his brow furrowed, and I can tell he's upset and I'm sorry for that too. But she makes an effort too and smiles a little. She waves her Pearphone at me,

"Your mom's phone must be off or something. But I'm sure she'll be here soon. I left her like a dozen messages." And I smile again, but it's not a happy smile, it's a we-both-know-she's-not-coming smile. And she looks down, because she knows I'm right. I take a deep breath and flex my shredded hand, which is now all nicely wrapped up. It's funny how you know that on the inside it's a mess, all shredded skin and exposed bone and everything, but when it's all wrapped up like this, it looks like nothing. It looks fine. And I guess that's symbolic or something, but I never paid too much attention in English.

"Look, Carls, I'm sorry I broke your window." She gives me this funny smile, which I understand because it wasn't a real window and it's such a trite thing to say.

"It's okay Sam, really. I'm sorry my window broke your hand." And she takes my hurt hand lightly and strokes it with her thumb. And although it hurts like hell, it makes me feel better and I don't want her to stop. And I could let it go there, but that's not who I am. I don't know when to stop.

"No, really. I'm sorry I got that angry. I'm just glad I didn't hit you!" And although I say it in a joking voice, she flinches, and I realise she thought I was going to. I grab her shoulders, and although I feel my wounds start to open again and scream at me I don't let go. "Carly, I was joking! You know I'd never... I mean I couldn't.... _ever_ hit you. You know that don't you?" And she's trying to shrug it off like it's no big thing, but it's huge. It's huge and terrifying and ripping the shit out of my heart. I scared her. I scared Carly so much she thought I'd hit her. She thought I could hit her. And what kind of person am I that my best friend is scared I'm gonna hit her? What kind of person am I that she would think I could do that?

But I'm Sam Puckett. Of course I'd do that. I punch people all the time. Even people I like. And I get into fights and pick locks and I'm unreliable and violent and rude. But I thought Carly knew me better. I thought she thought of me differently than anyone else did – because I would _never ever_ hit her, no matter how angry I got.

Carly's taking my hand again, but she won't look at me, instead just fussing over the reddening bandage and rousing Spencer to get a nurse. And she's asking me if it hurts and it does, _soooo fucking much_, but it's not in my hand, it's in my chest.


	2. Chapter 2: All I See Is You

**Disclaimer: Thought I'd own iCarly by Chapter 2, but still no.**

My lungs feel raw and red and I'm gasping in air but it's not enough. I can feel my eyes start to prickle and sting but I won't cry. I refuse to cry. And I slam my hand into the wall just to distract myself, the sear of pain blinding me as some of the stitches pop open and I feel a gush. The edges of my vision are white, and the pain gets sucked in with a whoosh and it feels almost good. It's enough to calm me down, because Carly is right behind me, and I thank god I'm a faster runner than her. But it's still hard to explain the blood running down my fingers and soaking my bandages. She stops and looks at me, and whatever she was going to say dies on her lips. And she's giving me that look again. Like she doesn't know me. Like she doesn't understand. And she's been looking at me like that more and more often, but it's not her fault. I curl my fingers into my hurt hand, letting the blood run back into the bandage, and there's nothing I can say. Because I can't explain to her why seeing her kissing some guy made me run away. And as she's hugging me because there's nothing either of us can say, I just wanna say, "I love you. Why can't you see that?" But I can't. I can only hug her back and try to keep my blood off her.

"I'm sorry Sam, I should've told you, but we've only been seeing each other for a week now." She's trying to explain herself to me. But she doesn't have to. I sit on her sofa and eat a Fat Cake, only because it gives me something to do with my hands and mouth. I shrug,

"It's fine. No, it's great. We haven't had much time to hang this week anyways. And you're telling me now." And she smiles and touches my knee, so I know everything's okay. But then she talks about him – no, gushes – about him and I start to feel sick because I can hear how far she's gone with him in her voice. And maybe I'm exaggerating about that, but I can see them together in my head and it's making me angry again. But I plaster a smile on my face and make all the right sounds. Because she's Carly, and she deserves happiness. And I'm Sam Puckett, and I don't deserve her. And I push everything into a hard little ball that sits in my gut like a ball bearing and I _be her friend_. Finally she shuts up about him, and I can start breathing again and let my lips relax. She starts playing with my hair and I worry. She's been quiet too long now, and Carly likes to ramble, I mean sometimes you just _cannot_ get the girl to shut up, so it's never a good sign when she's quiet. It means she's thinking, and nothing good ever came out of people thinking.

"Sam...." Her voice is slow, hesitant and I turn to look at her. Her eyes are on my face, all big and dark, and she's chewing her lip, looking concerned. I feel that hard little ball bearing tremble and heat up, start to expand, but I shove it back together. I can't fall apart now. I've worked too hard to keep her. "What's going on with you? Is- is it your mom?" And I laugh softly, because it's never been my mom. That's sort of what she's known for – not being anything. And I wish I could tell her – tell her that I love her, and that it's killing me. But I'm scared. And I know, I'm Sam Puckett and I'm not afraid of anything! But I'm scared of this. So it's easier to just look away and pretend things are fine. It's only bravery if you're scared to do it in the first place. And I've always been a coward.

There's still blood in the studio when we go up to do iCarly. Messy smears that have been wiped up and then rushed away from. I never did live up to my promise to clean it up. Carly's eyes slide away from it and she flicks her eyes at me again. Freddie's already there and looking a little green. "What's the matter Freddork? 'Fraid you might catch something off me?" He's looking at me, and he never did find my jokes funny.

"No," He sneers, before his voice goes quiet, "It's just... there was so much of it. I thought you were gonna die."

I jerk a thumb at my chest, "It takes more than a little glass window and massive blood loss to defeat Sam Puckett!" Carly brushes past us, gesturing at the floor,

"Careful guys, there's still some glass lying around."

We start iCarly, and it's good. It's a good episode. And it's funny, because pretending to be all bubbly and happy actually does make me feel a little better. It feels like it used to, when we'd do a show and then hang out drinking Peppy Colas while I ate Carly out of house and home. Until _he_ came over. And I know Carly must've said his name about a bazillion times, but I didn't bother to remember it. And everything's wrong again. I feel tired and my hand aches in the cold outside her building and all I want to do is go up and kick that guy's ass. But I can't. And it makes me feel trapped, because when I want to do something, I do it. But I can't. So I go home, make sure mom is still breathing, pick up a few bottles and crawl into bed. And I think about her touching him, and try to pretend it's me she's touching, that it's me she's kissing. And all I want is that release, so I slip my hand in my pants and fuck myself hard until she's all I can see, but when I cum it's weak and all I can see is that she's not here, and she's not touching me. That it's just me, alone, crying into my pillow and trying to breathe.

**A/N: Please review, it'll make me put the next chapter up quick smart! Everytime you leave a review, it sends a small electrical shock to me and I write a few more words... so you know what to do! And sorry, this story is only going to get darker.**


	3. Chapter 3: Rolling Down The Hill

"Sam, what's the matter? You're not yourself today."

"Shut up Gibby," I hiss, but it comes out flat and sad, so I just tug his underwear harder, jerking his feet off the ground. And boy, I must be really fucked up if Gibby's noticing it.

"I'm just worried about you Sam. It's – ah! – just not like you to be this sloppy." I tug viciously, but my heart's not in it. "I mean, I had to find _you_ today!" I sigh and let his underwear go.

"Whatever Gibby, just get out of here. I'll find you later. I can't focus when you're all talky." Gibby puts his hand on my shoulder,

"You can tell me Sam." I grit my teeth, looking at the ground,

"No, I can't." I shrug his hand off. I lean back against the lockers, crossing my arms. "Just drop it Gibby." He shrugs, putting his hands in front of him,

"Okay, okay. I can take a hint,"

"Really Gibby?" I snarl,

"But I'm here if you need me." He walks away gingerly and I'm alone. I sigh, finally. It feels right to be alone. My blond curls shield my face, and I narrow my vision to a square of linoleum. That's why it comes as shock when a hand shoves my shoulder and I bang into the lockers.

"You Puckett?" A senior sneers, pushing me again. I recognise him from the basketball team, him and two of his buddies. I get a bad feeling about this, but I'm sick of running.

"Yeah, what of it?"

He stabs a finger in my chest, "You made my baby brother cry. Now every time he hears the word Sam he starts blubbering. And his name _is_ Sam!"

I scoff, looking away from him. "Not my fault your brother's a dork." I look him up and down, "Must run in the family."

He looks to his friends for backup. "It's time to teach you a lesson Puckett."

I snort, "What are you, a walking cliché? Oh, 'it's time to teach you a lesson Puckett'." I imitate him in a falsetto, feeling the familiar emotion of anger growing in my gut. "Call me when you grow a pair." I move to walk away, and I can feel him seething behind me. His first punch is clumsy, fuelled by rage. I dodge it easily and catch him on the ear. I manage a few more punches while his friends stand there stunned, and he's on the ground by the time they manage to grab my arms. My hand feels swollen and twice it's size, and I know I've torn more stitches – a lot more, judging by the amount of blood that soaking my bandages. The senior gets up, wiping his bloody mouth and spitting. If I was smart I'd make a break for it. If I cared at all I'd run. But I don't know, maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve to be punished. All I seem to do is hurt people – hurt Carly – and maybe it's time I got hurt.

His first punch hits me in the stomach and I double up, white bursts exploding across my vision. I suck in a deep breath, gasping, his friends holding my sagging body up. The next cuts across my cheek, his ring cutting the skin open. I laugh a little at that, as if I haven't bled enough this week. My laugh only seems to enrage him, and he motions his friends to let go of my arms. He shoves me back into the lockers, hard, and my head hits head, jarring my neck. I slide to the ground, still laughing weakly. It's just so stupid, so goddamn pointless. All of it. He's screaming at me to get up, and then he's kicking me. I shield my body a little, reflexively, gasping as his foot swings into my stomach and pushes the breath out of me. I taste blood, and realise I must've cut my mouth when he punched me. It sprays out, coating the linoleum when he kicks me again, trying to get a reaction, and he falters. He swears and leaves, and I'm left rolling there in agony, feeling my stomach burn and drooling blood. It seems like all I've been doing this week has been trying to breathe, taking in big, cold breaths that are never enough.

I'm not sure who it was that found me, and to be honest, I don't really care. They're not gonna get a medal for saving me, or even thanks. Maybe they weren't even the first person who found me, just one who didn't know me well enough to keep going. I grunt when they stand me up, hands around my abdomen, which feels all sore and soft, like a piece of ripe fruit. That's been kicked. And then Carly's there, face all worried. And some stupid puppy-dog part of me wants to tell her not to. To tell her that's everything's fine, it's just a scratch. But I'm feeling all slow and heavy again, and I know even she wouldn't believe me this time. She comes with me to the nurses' office, and holds my relatively good hand and they strip my shirt off and poke and prod me. She cries when she sees my abdomen, all swollen and covered in dark swathes of bruises. She doesn't mind when I squeeze her hand as they re-do my stitches, and she hugs me gingerly when they leave us alone for a moment. But I wish they wouldn't leave us alone. She's looking at me with pity, and there's that look, that I-don't-understand look again. "Sam, why won't you tell me what's going on?" Even sad she's beautiful. But I can't tell her that, so I sigh and run a hand through my hair, looking away from her.

"Nothing. I'm fine." And usually I'm good at lying. But I can't lie to her well, especially when it's so obvious I'm not fine.

"Why won't you tell me? You just got the shit kicked out of you Sam, and I have no idea why you'd do that." She's gripping my face, trying to get me to look at her, but all I can manage are quick little glances that hurt me. I shrug myself out of her grip, wincing.

"It's not like it was my choice Carls, it just sort of happened."

"That's bullshit." Her voice is like a slap, and I've never heard that resentment in her voice before... and it's directed at me. "You don't let that sort of thing happen. I know you-"

I cut her off, "You don't know me that well Carly." She laughs bitterly, turning away from me,

"Like hell I don't!" She turns back, and her face is softer, and her tears have stopped. "But maybe you're right. The Sam I know doesn't let herself be beat up. The Sam I know doesn't hide secrets from her best friend and then lie to her face!" And I wish I could be angry, but she's right. The Sam she knew wouldn't do those things. But I'm not the Sam she knew. I haven't been for a while now. It's just that things are spiralling out of control, and I can't pretend to be the Sam she loved. And I'm sitting there quietly, arms wrapped around myself, holding in the hurt, and taking everything she says until she's out of breath. I sneak a glance at her and she's shaking, staring at me with such hurt in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." The words slide out, whispered. And her anger's gone and all that's left is concern.

"Please Sam, let me help you. Let me be your friend." I almost laugh again. If she knew that that word, 'friend', hurt me more than the ass-kicking ever could... but she can't know. I can't lose her. And I realise there's irony in the fact that I'm losing her anyway, that I'm closing her off and retreating in on my myself, but I can't stop myself. And it's like when we were little, and we rode our bikes down that big hill. We just kept going down faster and faster, and no matter how hard we tried, no matter how scared we were, we couldn't stop.

I'm hugging my knees to me, sitting on the sick bed, and rocking back forth, welcoming the throb of pain in my abdomen every time I do it. "I can't Carly. I- I just can't. You don't understand."

Carly sighs, exasperated, "Then make me understand. I wanna help you! But you have to let me! Please Sam, I love you." And all of a sudden, the pain isn't so welcoming. It's crushing my lungs and blurring my vision, and I push her hand away, standing.

"I.... I'm sorry Carly. I'm so sorry." I ignore her plaintive, "Sam...", knowing I'll regret it enough later, and brush past her.

She doesn't follow me. She always follows me. I feel myself rolling down that hill, and, just like then, I can't stop myself.


	4. Chapter 4: In Two

**Disclaimer: Don't own iCarly.**

**A/N: Please review. There's maybe two or three chapters left. I don't like how I feel when I write this, but I'll do it faster if you want it.**

I walk around Seattle until it gets dark, until the air starts to get chilly and make me shiver. I feel like a tenderised steak. And a jerk. Carly was just trying to help me, but I couldn't tell her that it was her causing the problem. And it wasn't really her I know, it was me... the way I felt about her. But I couldn't help it. Why couldn't she have been like everyone else... afraid of me, disdainful of me? Why did she have to keep thinking there was something special in me? Why did she have to make me feel like I was worth something? It only made it harder when I realised I wasn't – when I did stupid shit like this. I kicked at an empty can on the sidewalk, sending it skittering over the pavement. I shoved my hands deep in the pockets of my hoodie, my body aching. Why couldn't I just be normal? Why couldn't I stop doing these things? These things that hurt Carly, and hurt me. Why did I have to push everyone away?

I stop, realising I'm outside my building. I head up wearily, trudging up the flights of stairs. I pause when I reach my door. I always have to psyche myself up before I go in, because every time I enter, something bad happens. And I'm so tired of all this bullshit. I just wanna go to sleep and forget.

I open the door, slipping inside. Mom's passed out on the couch, empty bottles surrounding her. The smell of beer hits me and I feel my bruised stomach turn. She's fucking disgusting. And it makes me sick that I'm just like her. I can't deal with the problems in my life either. I just wish I wasn't one of her problems. I wish she said my name the way she says Melanie's.

I sigh, starting to pick up some of the bottles. "Well, if it isn't little Sammie." Fuck. It's Mom's slimebag boyfriend of the week, Steve. Every time he looks at me I feel like I need a shower, like his eyes are cockroaches crawling over me. I drop the bottles and head for my room. He's there standing in the hall, like some big, sweaty, drunk bear. "Can you move? Or are you too drunk?" I say sweetly. "Pfft. Why am I even asking?" I say, rolling my eyes and trying to inch past him. He puts his hand out clumsily, pushing me into the wall.

"You little slut. You don't fucking talk to _me_ like that." His eyes are unfocused and bleary and I slap his hand off, feeling disgusted.

"Don't fucking touch me." I spit, sneering at him. He slaps me hard, the back of his hand hitting my cheek. My head jerks sharply, my vision reeling. I stamp hard on his foot and make a break for it, wincing as my abdomen screams at me. He manages to grab hold of my arm and slam me into the wall. I sob at the impact, a wave of pain sweeping over me and I struggle to suck in a breath. He hits me again, and I taste blood. Everything's swimming and blurry, and all I can focus on is the agony coming from my abdomen. And then my face is pressed up against the wall, the torn wallpaper scratching my face. And his hand is fumbling at the front of my shorts, tugging them open, pressing hard against my bruised stomach. I try to focus my eyes, shaking my head. I feel a spike of panic and he forces my shorts down, cold air hitting my legs. I jerk my elbow back, feeling it sink deep into something soft and fleshy and he grunts. I push back off the wall and try to run, wondering why the fuck I had to keep picking fights when I couldn't win. Steve grabs my hair and throws me into the wall again, jarring my arm and shoulder. He punches me hard in the stomach and I double up, my vision going white and tears stinging my eyes. He pushes me against the wall again, and I sob as he straightens me up, stretching out my stomach muscles. My breath is coming in little gasps that tear at me, and I feel dizzy and faint, my limbs shivering. He kicks my feet apart, yanking my boxer shorts down, and I struggle weakly, trying to focus. I hear him fumbling with his belt behind me, his hand levered on the back of my neck and my brain's screaming at me to run but my body isn't listening. And then he's pushing himself inside me, thrusting in hard with a grunt. And I scream, muffled by the wall and blood in my mouth. It feels like I'm being split in two and I sob, feeling something hot trickling down my leg. He's pushing my pelvis into the wall with every thrust, tearing me a little more each time. Hot tears spill out of my eyes, and I feel like he's fucking me in the heart, tearing it in two. I bite down hard on my tongue as he pulls out, more of the hot liquid spilling down my leg. "Fucking slut got blood on me." I hear him spit and walk away, and I make a dash for my room, barely able to walk. I deadbolt the door and collapse against it, sobbing. I feel broken. I feel like he broke something inside me, something I needed to live. I clean up the blood from between my legs as best I can and curl up on my bed, shivering and aching. I can't stop shaking, and my eyes keep darting to the door, waiting for him to come back. I push myself up, gasping at the throb of pain that runs through me. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here. I climb out my window, shimmying down the fire escape with difficulty. There's only one place I could ever go. And I'm running on autopilot, but I keep telling myself everything will be better when I get there. It has to be.

**A/N: Please review. Like I said, I'll update faster if you tell me to, otherwise, it'll probably take some time.**


	5. Chapter 5: Surrender

**Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly, I wouldn't need my sweet, sweet words.**

I'm outside Carly's door, fumbling at the lock. I don't know what time it is – so late that it's early probably, and I can't find the key and I feel like hitting the stupid door but I'm so weak. I make it inside and limp over to the sofa. It's dark and quiet and peaceful and I just needed to be here. And I can't stop shaking, and my insides are full of fizz that makes me feel sick and light headed. And it's like I could only hold myself together until I got here, and now I'm falling apart.

I'm sitting on the couch with my head in my hands, trying to breathe, but I'm still shaking so hard I can only get little sips. And I hear her voice. It's sleepy and worried and I scrunch my nails into my hands until they slip under the skin because I woke her up. And it was a mistake to come here, but I didn't know where else to go, but I can't move. I can't even turn my head to look at her. I can only sit here and rock back and forth while my muscles tremble incessantly. And I hate myself. Hate myself for being so weak and not being able to control these fucking _feelings_. She's coming down the stairs and walking around the sofa,

"I got worried when you didn't come up and- Sam?" My eyes feel hot and messy, and I can feel them prickle, and when I say her name it comes out all mangled and broken.

She's hugging me, rocking back and forth with me and she's terrified. Because I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be the strong one. And I've only ever cried in front of her a few times, but they were never like this. My eyes are streaming and hot, and sobs are racking my body so hard they're like blows. And I just thank God I'm not making a sound, just these wet gasping noises when I have to breathe. Carly's stroking my hair and making soothing noises, but her heart's beating so fast I can feel it through her tank top against my arm. "Shhhh, Sam, it's okay. It's gonna be okay." And I know she doesn't know what she's saying, because if she knew she would realise it wasn't gonna be 'okay'. But she's rubbing my back and I feel the tears start to die. And it's like coming down, I feel so exhausted and washed-out, and I just want to sleep but I can still feel that ache between my legs. My eyes feel all hot and puffy, and I know I must look like a fucking mess because I _am_, but Carly's smiling at me. And I know it's a fake smile because I can see her lips trembling. I reach out and touch her face gently, hand shaking. And my heart is pounding so hard in my chest it's all I can hear, because I love her so much it is killing me. And I'm too weak to pretend it isn't anymore. I love her, oh God I love her.

I bring my lips to hers, and they're so soft it makes me swoon. And then I get this awful churning in my gut because it wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to find out. I pull away and practically run to the door, and my hand's on the knob when I hear, "Sam?" and I can't walk away, I can't ignore that voice. And she's coming up behind me and I really wish she wouldn't, because I feel like a wild animal and I don't want to hurt her. My shoulders are shaking and I'm trying to hold myself back, but all I can feel, all I can see is kissing her again. Her hand touches my shoulder softly and I snap. I back her up against the wall and anchor my lips to her again. Her hands are curled up in front of her, fingers brushing my chest. And slowly, hesitantly, she starts to kiss me back. And it's everything I wanted it to be, but it's so fucked up. I want to stop, want to talk, want to run... I want to do a million different things but all I can do is kiss her. And it should be gentle and soft, but it's not. I'm kissing her hard, too hard, and making her gasp for air. My hands are shaking on her, trembling on her waist, and I run my tongue along her bottom lip, needing to taste her. And she lets me in, her own tongue hesitant and soft. She tastes like mint. Her hands push lightly against me, like she wants me to stop, but I'm overpowering her, and her pushes are weak, kittenish, and then they still. I run my hand up under her shirt, moaning at the soft, hot skin before cupping her breast. My fingers are rough, rushed, brushing her nipple until it hardens against my palm. My breath shudders out of me and I run a hand, trembling along her body, sliding it under the waistband of her pants impatiently. Her hand takes my wrist and I'm panting because I need her. I need to feel her. Need to fuck her because I can't take it anymore.

"Please... please Carly? Please, I need you." I plead, and her eyes are wide and still terrified because she's never heard me beg before, she's never heard me admit a weakness. And it scares me too, how much I need her. And she lets my wrist go. My hand snakes down, slipping inside her panties and finally, _finally_ touching her. And it's all soft, velvet, slick heat and it makes me sob and shake because this is _what I wanted_. But it's not how I wanted it to be. But I can't stop myself, I can't stop myself from sliding my impatient fingers into her, even though she gasps and stiffens and I can see there are tears in her eyes. And then I'm thrusting into her, harder and faster than I ever imagined. I always thought, always _wanted_ it to be soft and slow between us, because I could never see myself hurting her, never see myself touching her without awe. And she's making these choked little sounds, that are half-moans, half-sobs, and I can feel myself shaking too. Her hands grip my shoulders, bruising the flesh, and I can hear her, can feel her hitting the wall roughly with the force of my movements. Her eyes are shut tight, and she's biting her lip, and my mouth is breathing hot, uneven breaths on her neck, and I can smell her. And when she cums against me, hard, it's like a cry of pain and then we're just standing there, breathing heavily, and I pull my hand out of her pants. And she's sliding to the ground, sobbing quietly, hands over her face and I feel this big lead weight drop inside me. I get a sour taste in my mouth and I'm just like him, just like Steve. I took what I wanted and I didn't care. Except I do care, so much.

And I can't face it. I can't be brave and accept the consequences of my actions, so I run. I run out of there even though she's reaching out for me and saying my name in her soft voice. Because I'm scared. I'm so scared and my stomach's churning and then I'm puking outside her building, purging everything. And I'm wracked with weak spasms, even though there's nothing left, I still can't stop retching. And then I'm gone.

**A/N: I actually wrote this a while ago. It was hard... I tried to make it hot but sad. I don't know how well I've done... so please review. There's probably a couple of chapters left, but then I have to leave it. It's **_**too**_** dark, and I can't keep writing it. So... if you have any suggestions as to what you want, let me know. Otherwise, I have a rough outline I can go off.**

**Once again, please review. They are my validation for doing this to Sam.**


	6. Chapter 6: On Edge

**Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. At least, that's what I tell myself.**

**A/N: Look, when I say a story is going to be dark, it's going to be pitch-fucking-black. That's right, so dark I had to stick a swear word in the middle. That's how you know I'm serious. And just so you don't think I'm all irresponsible and junk, and that I don't take rape seriously, or worse, that I endorse it... which is facetious, I mean, just cause I write about it doesn't mean ANYTHING. I didn't want to write that. It's fucked up. But I had to. It's just the way the story goes. Anyway, there are consequences to actions. And I understand that.**

I take a long swig out of the bottle, screwing my face up as it burns its way down into me. I don't know why I'm doing it. I don't know why I do anything. I'm just... I'm weak like my mom. I can't deal with everything... anything. I take another sip, swallowing the amber liquor with a cough. I can't even begin to comprehend the events of the past week. Ever since I cut my hand... no, ever since I realised I loved Carly... everything's just been spiralling out of control because I just can't handle it. Carly was always the one who helped me with my problems, always the one who took care of everything. But I fucked everything up. And it hurts so bad.  
And it still hasn't hit me yet. I was raped. Raped. Me, Sam Puckett... was... and it's lurking at the edges of my mind, and I can't let it in. So I take another drink. I shiver as my fingers near my mouth, grasped around the neck of the bottle. I can smell her. The scent of her on me. And I can still feel her, hot and slick on me, her hands trembling, the little sobs for breath. And her tears. I made her cry. I... what I did was... unforgivable. I can still hear her voice, the one that's always stopped me in my tracks. And it made me run. Because it was asking a question I couldn't answer.  
"Sam." I flinch, the sound of her voice like a slap, even though it's soft and hard at the same time. She sits down beside me, and I draw my knees up to me. Her fingers take the bottle from me gingerly, tossing it away. And she's still taking care of me. Even now.  
"How'd ya know where I was?" My voice is a little slurred, but I can still see her crystal clear, still feel my thoughts rushing through me. It's only my body that's tipsy, but it's better that I can't feel it, can't feel anything physical. It's all numbed.  
Carly brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "Because I know you. This is where you always came when you were upset. Before we met."  
I look around the low rooftop, the battered pigeon coop still standing after all these years. And we're sitting near the ledge, close enough to look over and feel a rush of vertigo. And the lights of Seattle are muted, blocked by the bigger, dark skyscrapers around us.  
"Carly... I'm sorry. I'm so-"  
Anger flashed on Carly's face. "Stop Sam, just stop. I'm sick of your apologies. Just tell me the truth. Tell what the fuck is going on... tell me what the hell happened in my apartment."  
And maybe I'm drunker than I thought, because I can't stop myself. "I love you. I'm in love with you." I feel a rush of adrenaline and it makes me tremble, wrapping my arms around my knees and burying my head against them, blonde hair cocooning me.  
There's a long silence, where I just sit and shake and shut my eyes tight, unable to look at her. "Sam?" Carly's hand touches my knee gently, hesitantly, and I lift my head a little.  
"I'm sorry. I tried to stop, I did... but I can't help it. It's killing me." My voice cracks and I wish to fuck I hadn't drank that stupid whiskey, because everything's crashing down, and I'm weak little Sam, knocked out of her shell and all defenceless. I'm not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to let these things out. And then Carly's standing, moving close to me and wrapping her arms around me, holding me close, cradling me like I'm some fragile thing.  
"Carly please... stop. I don't- I keep hurting you. I don't wanna hurt you. I don't wanna keep making you cry." But she doesn't let go, just hugs me tighter, and I can feel hot drops spatter on my shoulder. And I've made her cry. Again. And my throat feels all strangled and tight, and my vision starts to go blurry. Shit. I'm crying. Again. And I'm begging her, begging her to stop hugging me, to stop holding me, even as my arms betray me and loop around her, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry," I whisper in her ear, my voice hoarse, "I didn't want it to be like that. I just... I did what he did and I hate it. I'm so sorry... I'm just like him. Fuck, I'm sorry."  
Carly pulls back, "What who did?"  
And I tremble, because if I admit it it's real. And I can't take it back. "S-Steve."  
"Your mom's boyfriend? What did he- Sam...oh god, oh fuck." She pulls me to her tightly, and I can feel her body shaking, her voice whispering, "Oh fuck, oh god." Over and over again, getting shakier and shakier. And her hands stroke my hair. And I feel numb. And I'm confused. Because I was sad, and now I can't feel anything. Carly's hugging me and I can't feel anything. I just feel... empty.  
And she doesn't understand. I have to make her understand. "Carly... what I did... what I did was... I'm just like him." I hold her face in my hands, the skin hot and wet, and her eyes are all puffy and red-rimmed. And she still looks beautiful. "No Sam, no you're not."  
My brow furrows, "But I-"  
She shakes her head as best she can, a melancholy smile on her lips. She brings her hands up to circle my wrists. "I could've stopped you. I could've said stop. You stopped when I took your wrist." She squeezes a wrist lightly, as if to remind me. "But I didn't."  
And I'm feeling things again. Painful things. Big, angry stabs in the heart. "Then why-"  
She shrugs, a little self-deprecating laugh escaping her. "I don't know." She shakes her head, "I just... I don't know. I can't even begin to think about what happened. I don't... I liked it Sam, I wanted it, and it scares the shit out of me."  
I let out a shaky breath, my fingers starting to tremble against her face. "So what do we do?" And I'm terrified, fucking terrified of the answer. She pulls my hands off her, reaching into a pocket. "We call the police." My hands drop to my sides and they feel huge and heavy, my heart thudding sickly against my ribs.  
I lick my dry lips, "I meant... about us."  
Carly glances at me, pausing, her Pearphone glowing in her hand. There's fear in her face. And something else, something questioning that makes me swallow hard, and makes my blood throb in my veins. "I don't know Sam. I just... I can't... I need time." She looks away, bringing her Pearphone to her ear. I turn as she talks on the phone, facing the ledge. And it's not that I'm suicidal, I'm not that brave or that stupid, but something makes me go close, so close it's almost like I'm standing in midair, just floating, this hard little bit of concrete under my feet and nothing else. I can feel a slight breeze tease my hair, my toes flexing in my shoes against the edge. And I smile, shaking my head. It would be so easy, so very easy. But I can't let go. I know that. But I'm not scared, not scared to stand here, even though I might fall. Because I know I won't. I look over at Carly, who's engrossed in her conversation, her voice with this line of panic in it. The enormity of it is beginning to hit her. But it hasn't hit me. And there's so many things to be afraid of, so many things that have gone wrong and that could go wrong, and the biggest of them is Carly, the most important. But it's done. I can move forward. She hangs up, and I hear the sound of her phone locking. I back away from the ledge. I might not be scared of standing there, but I'm scared to death at the thought of her standing there. Carly sighs, trudging to me wearily, "They're on their way." Her hand finds my shoulder, and we share a tight smile.  
And I feel the edge of it. The edge of panic, and I grab her hand. "Carls, I know... I know you need time but... please... don't leave me alone. I don't- I can't be alone."  
She shushes me, drawing me into a hug and pressing her lips to my forehead. I feel like a five-year-old. But it's in a good way. I feel safe. Like, if I'm with her, nothing bad can happen. And I know my logic is fucked up, just look at the events of the past week. But I like feeling this way. I don't want to question it. I don't want to lose it. And we stay like that, my arms wrapped tight around Carly, just needing her, just needing her to hold me. Because I'm starting to realise, and it's making me shake. The sound of sirens approaches, and Carly loosens her grip, and I let her go reluctantly. She takes my hand, gripping it tightly, her fingers rubbing my knuckles. "C'mon. We better get down there. And I'm gonna be with you the whole time. I'm not gonna let you go, 'kay?"  
And I'm reminded so strongly of why I love her. She's the only one that cares. That sees past the horrible person I am to the person I could be. She makes me feel like I'm worth something. And if she thinks that, then maybe I can do this. As long as she's with me, I can do this.

**A/N: See, that's a little better isn't it? Not AS dark. There might even be hope. Look, it's not easy okay. I can't make a happy ending pop out. What I can do is make a semi-satisfactory, warm glow-y, "Hey, maybe things will be alright" ending. So, I can end it here... which is probably best, story-wise... or I can do the aftermath. It will be more positive. Carly's confused, but that's a good thing. So leave a review, and I'll either write it, or move on. Also, now you know that when I say a story's going to be dark, it is going to be DARK. A pot of ink in the dark deep under the sea in a cave dark. At night.**

**Anyway, despite the darkness of it, I do hope it was good. So please, do let me know how you liked it. Or didn't like it. Let me know how it made you feel. Let me know if it made you feel. Let me know anything really.**


	7. Chapter 7: I Need To See

**Disclaimer: I owned iCarly once. But then I gave it all up for love. And lies.**

**A/N: I know, narrative-wise, last chapter was the place to end. But... apparently you want more, and I feel bad for Sam. She deserves some happiness.**

"Sam? It's... it's your mom again." Spencer says hesitantly, holding the phone. I draw my knees up to me, resting my chin on them and shaking my head. "Sam..." He sighs and puts the phone to his ear. "Sorry Mrs Puckett, Sam's... Sam's not... she's not... she can't talk right now." He ends the call, turning to look at me. It's all anyone seems to do these days. Look at me, with that mixture of sympathy and pity and... and fear. It makes me sick. "You've gotta talk to her sometime." Spencer's voice is soft, pleading.

"Uh uh. Don't wanna." I hug my arms tighter around my legs.

"Sam, she's your mom. She loves you."

I wince, sensing Carly moving beside me. "Leave Sam alone Spence. It's _her_ fault." Carly's voice is hard, and there's this thing in it that I'd never heard before, until now. It's bitter and brittle and it makes me sad, because the Carly I know...the Carly I knew... she never spoke like that. But then, everyone's changed. Everything has... changed.

I'm living with Spencer and Carly now. Temporarily. Until everything gets sorted. Of the few relatives of mine that weren't in jail, none were fit to have a kid. And it sounds great, y'know, it's what I always wanted, to be living with them, to never have to go home. But things never go the way I want. It's like I'm a pumpkin, around Halloween, and all the guts, all that orange stuff inside has been scooped out and thrown away. I feel hollow. It hurts.

And all the reasons why I never told Carly have come true. If I touch her she flinches, if I say her name she turns too fast, too eager, but she won't look me in the eye. Spencer doesn't know about what happened between us. I don't think Freddie does either. And it's bad enough, them treating me like a stained-glass Sam. I tease Fredbag, and I get nothing. He'll just smile and agree. And maybe it's that that's worst of all. That even Freddie, even _Freddie_ feels sorry for me. I need to insult him. I need Carly to touch me without thinking. I need Spencer to treat me like his little sister. Then maybe things could get better, maybe then they could go back to normal. But the way they keep treating me... it makes me feel worse, keeps me so aware of this big thing that happened. And I feel like maybe, maybe I could move past it, if only they'd let me y'know?

Steve's gone anyway. Locked up nice and safe. And you don't ever mess with a Puckett. Uncle Carmine made sure of that. So maybe not so safe. And all the statements have been given, everything's almost done, all wrapped up nice and neat. But what about me? What happens to me? What, my mom gives a shit _now_? And just 'cause she's my mom I'm supposed to forgive her?

But things are better. I feel better. I guess. I don't have all this stuff bottled inside me. It's all out, and I'm still alive. And that means things have a chance of getting better, right? But all I really want is Carly. She's the only thing I want. I can deal with everything else, it's hard, but I can do it. It's Carly, just like it's always been Carly. She held my hand when I talked to police. She hugged me, she stroked my hair, she was a mother to me when I fell apart, when it hit me what had happened. No, not a mother, a best friend. Even though I did... what I did to her, even though she admitted she didn't know how to feel, she still stayed by my side. And then, when I was better, well, what can be called better, she moved away. Emotionally. Physically. And it was like she was on a hill, far away from me, and I couldn't reach her. I couldn't run fast enough, or yell loud enough to get through to her. And I'll see her looking at me, and I wish to God I could read what was going on in her face, wish I could decipher what she was thinking.

"Sam, dinner!" I move off the couch reluctantly. They try to be normal. Try to be happy. But it all feels a little forced y'know? "And tonight... spaghetti tacos!"

Freddie groans, "Again Spence? We had these last night!"

"And the night before!" Interjects Carly.

I sit at the table, grabbing a taco.

"Well what do you guys wanna do?"

Freddie shrugs, "I don't know. We could get take-out?"

Carly nods, "Yeah... pizza maybe? What do you think Sam?"

"Hmm?" I mumble through a mouthful of taco.

A ghost of a smile appears on Carly's face. "Or we could just have spaghetti tacos." She sits down beside me, grabbing the bowl of spaghetti.

Spencer waves his ladle at her, "That was my idea!" before sitting at the end of the table.

Freddie sighs, moving to sit down. "Hey Fredbag, get me a rootbeer!"

Freddie's lips tighten, and he smiles thinly. "Sure thing Sam."

I grit my teeth. "Oh _come on_! Grow a spine already Benson."

Freddie just smiles, sitting the rootbeer down in front of me before slipping into his chair. I exhale hard, dropping the remains of my taco. I feel something touch my hand softly, tentatively, and I look up. It's Carly. Giving me her, '_I know_' look. And I feel my heart leap, because she hasn't done that since... well, then. And she understands, she knows that I need to have Freddie fight back. 'Cause what good is a punching bag if it's made out of jelly?

I feel a pang as her hand moves away, but at least it moved there in the first place. It's enough. And I feel a little happier, a little better, because things are changing. And that's _something_.

The rest of dinner is uneventful, just chatter about school and Spencer's new project. And funnily enough, I miss school. I haven't been in a while, Spencer thought it was better if I... took some time. I think it would've been better for me to go to school. It would've been hard but... there's too much time to think here. I go out, but all I do is think. I stay in, all I do is think. I'm sick of thinking. We haven't done iCarly in a while either. I said we should, I said I could, but... Carly and Freddie said to wait. To take some time. I'm sick of taking time. Sick of people telling me how to feel. I feel like I'm in a cage, and everyone's standing in the dark so I can't see them, just gasping and whispering to themselves about me. And part of it's paranoia, I mean, I've always been a little paranoid, but it's not paranoia when I'm at the apartment, and I can feel Spencer, or Carly, or Freddie, just looking at me, feel it burning the back of my head.

Freddie goes home, and I can sense it's late. I don't look at the clocks much anymore. They go too slow when you do that. Spencer says good night, and I bed down on the sofa, brushing my teeth at the sink before laying my blanket out. I sigh, reaching for the remote. I have trouble sleeping, so I usually just watch Girly Cow repeats until I drift off.

"Sam?"

I turn, setting the remote down, and Carly's there, standing at the bottom of the stairs in her pyjamas. "Yeah? What is it Carls?"

She steps forward hesitantly, "Can... can we talk?"

I pat the cushion beside me, "Sure, sit down."

I see Carly bite her lip, and my brow furrows. "Um... in my room?"

I stand, tugging my boxers down a little. "Yeah. Sure." I know better than to ask questions at this point.

I walk into Carly's room. It's been a while since I've been in here. I... she doesn't let me sleep with her anymore. For obvious reasons, I guess. And everything's the same. There's still that mix of the child, the teenager and the adult yet to come. The soft toys, the band posters... and yet, the soft toys look neglected, the posters sagging at the corners. I've done this. I've made her grow up. I didn't want her to grow up. I wanted to protect her. I feel a tug at my heart. I can never be sorry enough. I take a deep breath, turning to face her. Carly shuts the door softly, leaning against it for a moment before turning. I sit on her bed, my heart in my throat.

"What did... what did you want to talk about?"

Carly sits on the bed, bringing her legs up and crossing them Indian-style. "I- I've been thinking." She begins, and immediately I'm scared. Nothing good ever came of thinking. I knew that all too well. Her eyes flick up at me, "Thinking about you. About us."

"Us?" My voice is soft, and I'm surprised she heard me at all.

"Sam... I... I'm not gay. At least, I don't think I am. But,"

I can't move. I'm paralysed.

"But... you're my best friend."

I can't breathe. I can't think.

"That... that night was... I don't know. It was... I felt something. Even though it was..." She trails off and I wince. "I felt something. When you kissed me... I...I want... I want..." Her face grows angry. "I don't know what I want. I keep thinking and thinking but I don't know!"

I feel my heart twist sickly inside me, and I reach out, touching her shoulder, wanting to calm her. It seems to work, her face relaxing, and she continues in a quieter voice. "I want... I want to kiss you."

"Carly?" And it's like someone else is saying it, someone soft and broken. And that's what she makes me. And her hand brushes my face, touching my jaw.

"I need... I need to see," She draws my face closer to her, and I can feel her breath, hot on my face. My heart is thudding so hard I can feel it banging against my lungs and I can't breathe. "I just," Her voice is a whisper, and it trembles as she draws us closer together, our lips millimetres apart. "I just need to see..."

And her lips touch mine, soft, so soft. And she's kissing me. She's actually kissing me. And this is how I wanted it to be. Gentle, and soft, and her lips move slowly on mine, caressing them. And I'm scared, almost too scared to kiss back. And it feels like there's a hot flame running through me, and it's telling me to kiss her harder, to touch her, but I silence it. And Carly's lips push harder against mine, as she deepens the kiss, tilting my face up to her. And I wonder, is she feeling it too? This thing that makes me shake, that makes me stop doing everything but kiss her?

She pulls back, our lips making a soft sound as they part. And there doesn't seem to be anything I can say, nothing I can do besides open my eyes and sit there, tasting her on my lips. And fight down that part of me that wants to leap on her. And my heart is aching, so much I put my hand to my chest, almost expecting to feel something there, something to explain the pain. I let out a shuddery breath.

"I felt it." Carly's voice is a whisper, barely a whisper, like a sigh, and I look at her, her face deep in thought. And when she looks at me, it's like a shock, the _way_ she looks at me. "I felt it." She repeats, moving towards me. And her hands take my face again, gentle in their embrace, and she draws me to her, draws me to her lips, and kisses me, harder. And it's more desperate this time, both of us. And her tongue runs along my bottom lip, and I open my mouth wider, letting her in, and fighting back a moan at the sheer pleasure of it. She's kissing me, she's actually kissing me. I touch her tongue softly with mine, before exploring her mouth carefully, and she moans, and I feel it vibrate into my mouth. I pull back, my breath hitching. She's looking at me curiously, and her lips are swollen and lush. From me.

I laugh breathlessly. "You... you moaned."

A little smile steals onto her face. "I had to."

She takes my hand loosely in both of hers, playing with it absentmindedly. And I don't want to question it. I don't want to question any of it. I don't want to know. Not now, when things are so sweet.

"You should go to sleep." Carly says, her voice soft.

I nod soundlessly and go to stand. Her hands tighten on mine and she stops me. "Here. You should sleep here. With me." She pulls me in again, kissing me lightly. And it's like the first time, it's like every time, it sends my heart nuts and makes my head spin. And I love her. I'm in love with her.

I get under the covers beside her, pulling them over us, and bring my body close to hers, moving an arm tentatively around her waist.

"Is that okay?" I say, feeling the smooth skin at the gap between her top and shorts. She shuffles back into me, pressing our bodies together.

"Mhmm. That's good." Her hand rests on the top of mine, entwining our fingers. And it's stupid, it's so stupid... but I feel like crying. Because it's better, it's so much better than my imagination. It's so much better than anything I could have dreamed, and I feel like my heart is about to explode, it's so big and achy.

"Night Cupcake." I catch a hint of a smile from her turned face, and her voice is soft when she says,

"Night Sammy."

**A/N: I feel really good about this chapter. Really really good. Please let me know if you agree. Oh, and btw, I can turn this into a story. Maybe a long one. If'n you want.**

**Tell me what you want.**

**Please.**

**I'll give you a hug?**

**Oh, if you left a review, I'm on my way. Hold on. Hugs a comin'!**

**And yes, I know where you live. No, it's nice.**


	8. Chapter 8: Sweet Oblivion

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, claimed to own iCarly.**

I wake up alone, my arm stretched out over the empty bed, and it feels like I've lost something, like I'm reaching for something. I lift my head off the pillow, groggy, and then I snap awake. I'm in Carly's bed. It wasn't a dream... it was real. She kissed me. She felt something. And I feel my heart start to thud crazily and I'm elated and scared at the same time. And for once, I'm almost able to forget what happened. Forget everything that happened.

I sit up, my blonde hair tumbling around my face, rubbing my eyes. Carly walks in, ruffling her hair with a towel and I freeze, mid stretch. She smiles at me. "Morning Sam!"

And I relax, "Morning Carls." And I'm too paranoid, always waiting for something to go wrong. Maybe this time, it's right. I stand, feeling my skin warm in the glow of the sunlight spilling through the window. I move over to her, my heart thumping. "Carly?"

She turns, looking at me, and I want to ask her what's happening, what's going on and what the fuck we are right now, but I'm scared, so I look away, my guts twisting inside me. "Whatcha doin' today?" I say instead, my mouth feeling dry. She shrugs, playing with her hair in the mirror, turned away from me, and I touch her arm softly. And she jumps, and I let my hand drop.

She smiles quickly, a nervous laugh coming from her, "Oh, I don't know. School I guess."

I smile tightly, "Oh, right. School."

Her brow furrows, "Sounds like you miss it. Having withdrawals from the cafeteria food?"

I laugh, "Yeah, sure, and Miss Brigg's sweet voice." But what I really want to say is, _'I miss spending time with you.'_ And I've never been good in the morning. Especially a morning like this. I want to kiss her, so bad, but I don't know where I stand. And I'm not going to touch her without her permission. Never again.

We head down to breakfast, me still in my boxers and tank top, because, what's the point in changing? I'm not going anywhere. And it's not that things are awkward between us, it's that she's pretending like nothing happened. But Carly's never been that good an actress, and I can sense something underneath. And I just wanna ask her, just wanna know what the fuck is going on, and why can't she look at me?

And when she goes to school I calm down, pacing the iCarly studio. I'm reading too much into it. She said she needed to see – I shiver at the memory – but what did she see? She said she felt something... but what does that mean? She wanted me to sleep with her... she let me hold her. What do I do? Do I do anything? And I chew my nails, wearing them down, trying to figure this thing out. But I can't. It's not reliant on me, there's nothing I can do. And maybe if I wasn't stuck in this stupid apartment, maybe if there was someone... something to do I wouldn't be obsessing so much over every little thing. But it's Carly. I sigh angrily, throwing myself in a beanbag. I hated thinking. All it did was twist everything around and make it bad. Better to act on impulse. So what do I want to do, right now? _Kiss Carly_.

I sigh. Not working.

I spend most of the day just pacing and trying to distract myself. Hell, I even cleaned a little. And I know Spencer's here, but I can't talk to him about kissing his little sister. So we have one hell of an awkward lunch, where Spence asks me questions I'm too distracted to answer properly.

And then I start to get angry. Who does she think she is? Pretending like it never happened and then just flitting off to school? Who is she to fuck with my heart like that? She knows I'm in love with her, why would she tease me like that?

But I can't stay angry. Because I know she wouldn't do that. And I wish I could help her with what she's struggling with, wish I knew what she was thinking. But at the same time, I don't want to know. Because I might not want to hear it.

But she kissed me. She kissed me more than once. That means something, right? Does it? What does it mean? Was it an experiment? Am I expecting too much? Fuck. I hate thinking.

I throw myself on the couch, turning the TV on. Not that I'm watching it, but it gives background noise to my pouting and furious thoughts. And though it's inexorable, it's finally over – Carly comes home. Huh, home. I guess this place is my home, more than my apartment ever was. I jump up, a grin on my face. I can't help it.

"Hey! How was school?"

Carly sighs, closing the door. "Jank." She drops her backpack on the floor. "How was your day?"

I grunt in response. No need to tell her all the crap that's running through my head. But... "Carly... can I... can we talk?"

It makes my heart drop when her eyes flick away from me, and she chews on her lip, brushing past me and moving to the kitchen. "Can it wait? I've got a ton of homework to do." She won't even look at me when she says it.

And I don't know how to fight this. I don't know how to fight with words. "I... don't you think we should talk about this?"

And she's busying herself with something on the kitchen table... with nothing really. "I don't know what you're talking about Sam."

My head drops and I sigh. "Carly..."

She turns, toying with a piece of fruit. Her eyes can't seem to leave the floor. "I... we will. It's just... not right now. I really do have a lot of homework."

And I know she's lying. She sucks at lying. But I drop it. Even though it hurts, I drop it. Because I'm not going to force her to talk. Maybe I would've before, but this is... delicate. And I don't want to break whatever this is. Even though it already feels broken.

And Carly disappears into her room, to do her 'homework'. And I don't follow her. I stay, and I sit on the couch, and I fight to make my mind blank, turning 'Seattle Beat' up and trying to concentrate on it.

I wake up suddenly, feeling a form near me. It's dark, but I can see from the outline it's Carly. I blink a few times, trying to clear my groggy head. "Carls?"

And I can hear her breathing, the rhythm uneven, and she sways, as if she's unsure about something. And I feel her hand slide into my hair and then she's kissing me. Kissing me hard, hungrily, only stopping to pant short breaths before she anchors her lips to me again. And I feel her hand, tightening in my hair, her tongue, sliding into my unresisting mouth and I sit up more, getting a better angle. And it's overwhelming, and my heart's thudding crazily in my chest. And it's like there's this thing swelling in my head, getting all big and achy, and I pull back, licking my lips. "Carly... what are you doing?"

And her voice is small, and hesitant. "I- I don't know." I can feel her breath trembling on my cheek, sense her lips so close to me, and I can't fight it. And I know I shouldn't, because this is only going to fuck me up more in the morning. But I can't stop myself, and I put a finger to her chin, tilting her head up and bringing my lips to her, brushing them so lightly, so gently it's like a question. And she answers, her mouth moving hotly on me, deepening the kiss quickly, desperately, pressing too hard and stealing my breath. I sit up, pulling her closer, and she crawls onto the couch, straddling me. And my hands touch her face, shaking, and the skin is hot, so hot and she takes my hand, breaking away from me for a moment. And there's this part of me, this pathetic little kid in me that's shouting 'Stop!', and it's the smart part of me, the part of me that knows how much this can hurt later. Carly moves my hand under her shirt, placing it on her bare breast, and I feel her nipple, hard against the palm of my hand. And that little part of me sobs a bit louder. "Please Sam... I need you." And her voice is so soft, so hoarse I'm not sure if she even said it, if it wasn't for the sharp pull I feel in response. And then she's kissing me again, these wet, open-mouthed kisses that she breathes into and they drug me, and all I can do is kiss her back, flicking a thumb over the hard nub of her nipple. And she moans into my mouth, her hips pressing into me, and I shiver inside, feeling the warm, smooth curvature of her breast in my hand, and I can feel her twitch when I brush the sensitive nub again. And I'm struggling to breathe, struggling to think from this sudden onslaught from her. And her hands are roaming over me, tangling in my hair, and her tongue is touching mine, caressing my mouth, my lips and I can't... I can't...

A toilet flushes, Carly jumping and moving off me, our lips breaking with a soft sound. And she pauses, struggling with something, and then she's going to her room, and I can feel her look back at me, hesitate as I say, "Carly?" in that soft, broken voice she creates in me. But she goes, without a word, and there's no one to answer when I whisper, "Why are you doing this to me?" and I feel the hurt start, throwing it's little barbed hooks into my heart. She can't... she can't do this to me. Why? Why would she- and I can still feel her, still taste her on me. So I stop thinking. I stop myself by focussing on her, how she felt, how her lips felt on mine. And I know I shouldn't dwell on it, but I don't want to have to think about the consequences right now. And there will be consequences, I know. But I want this one moment, this one moment where I can just live in physical sensation, and not have to think. And it's nice.

**A/N: This story is never going to be happy... it's just not right. But it will be plenty more angsty, and it will get uh... more sexual. Soon. But let me know how I did, leave me a review. Did I tug your heartstrings? Or did I just piss you off? In a good way or a bad way? Let me know, this story makes me vulnerable. 'Cause it's hard.**


	9. Chapter 9: Confide In Me

**Disclaimer: Do I look like I own iCarly? Oh... well, thanks, but I still don't.**

I wake up slowly, hesitantly, swimming up towards consciousness despite myself. The light hurts my eyes and the noise hurts my ears, and I just want to snuggle down into the couch and go back to sleep. But I can smell bacon. And that's probably what woke me up, 'cause my body's all twitchy but my brain is _dead_. I feel like a zombie. I lurch to my feet and stumble to the table, grabbing a hot rasher of bacon from the big plate that's sitting there. I chew on it automatically, my stomach rumbling in appreciation. It's another day. But I'm not awake yet. So I'll just enjoy the bacon until that happens. I reach out and take a sip of the orange juice that's been put in front of me, and it starts to clear the cobwebs from my brain.

I finish breakfast feeling a little better, starting to take notice of my surroundings. Spencer takes the empty plate and glass, and I stretch, my belly feeling tight. "Where is everyone Spence?" I yawn.

He looks back at me, "You mean Carly? She left for school early." Spencer turns and walks back to me, leaning on the table, "Hey, did you borrow something off her?"

My eyebrows furrow, "No... I don't think so. Why?"

Spencer shrugs, "It's just when she left this morning she kept looking at you like she wanted something."

I freeze. Fuck. Last night. How could... how the fuck could I forget that? A muscle under my eye twitches and I stand quickly, the chair screeching back.

Spencer straightens, looking concerned. "Sam? Are you okay?"

I force a tight smile onto my face. "Yeah, sure... I just... forgot I have to go to the bathroom."

Spencer raises his eyebrow, "Okay..."

I brush past him, moving to the bathroom quickly. I close the door with a click, my breath disappearing with it, hot flashes in my head. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She... I... I mean, we...

I splash cold water on my face, gasping at the shock as it hits my skin, and look at myself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink tightly. And my face is pale, my eyes wide. I look scared. Terrified in fact. At least for me. I watch my mirror-image raise her hand, touching it to her lips lightly, incredulously, before drawing it back and looking at it. I touched her with this hand. She... my eyebrow furrows, a few streams of water trickling at the disturbance. She... woke me up... to... to kiss me. To ask me to touch her, to make me touch her. My hand clenches into a fist. And then she ran. Ran back to her room without a word of explanation. And then she leaves early this morning. What? She's ashamed? What? She can only touch me, only kiss me when it's dark and the middle of the night? Like I'm her little guilty treat? Like I'm her little fucking experiment?

I loosen my fist, crescent-shaped nail marks in my palm, and sigh. I'm pissed at her, yeah, but I know it's not like that. I have to believe it's not like that. I have to believe she wouldn't do that to me. And it's my fault really. I can't expect things to go like they do in the movies. Well, some movies. Girl meets girl, girl confesses love, girl gets girl. It's how it should be, and it is – but in the most fucked up way possible. I've got her, but it's in the middle of the night, and only for a moment. A moment she's ashamed of. And is it better that something's happened? That she hasn't come out and said, 'No, I'm straight. You disgust me, and I hate you.' Would that be better? Would it hurt less?

Maybe. Because then I wouldn't know how good it felt to be _so close_ to what I want. To have her. All of her. To have her want me. Maybe then I'd know for sure what the fuck was going on. But it's tearing me in two. And I need to get out of here. I need to get some fresh air and some perspective. This place is bringing me down. I laugh soundlessly, sure, it's the apartment's fault.

Spencer knocks on the door softly. "Sam, are you okay?" And it's not his fault, but I feel this big swell of anger burn through me. I open the door quickly.

"Look Spence, just stop okay?"

He moves back a step, confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop treating me like I'm made of glass!"

"But... I'm just worried about you Sam." His voice is small, hurt.

I sigh, "I know... but you're not helping. You keep wanting to know if I'm okay, you and Freddie and... and Carly, and it reminds me that I'm not."

His face is sad, and his hand reaches out tentatively to touch my shoulder. "I... I'm sorry Sam. I... we don't know what else to do. We wanna help you. We love you."

I laugh mirthlessly at the 'we'. If only he knew how much Carly had been 'loving' me. He seems to take my laugh as something else.

"We do Sam. We do love you. You're like my little sister. What... how can I help you? I want to help you."

I look down. I can't look at him. He's too... it hurts me. That he cares this much. That he's hurt. And he draws me into a hug soundlessly, my face pressed into his shirt. And it's a different kind of good. A warm, safe hug. And Spence really is like a big brother to me. And I feel my stomach churn for snapping at him. But I was so sick of everyone tiptoeing around me. He kisses the top of my head, letting out a long breath and I let him go with a sigh.

"I'm sorry Spence. I know... I know how you and... everyone loves me. I do. And it helps, it does. But... can you just treat me normal? Like before? Before... everything."

And if only he knew how much that 'everything' encompassed.

I punch him in the arm lightly, "C'mon, I'm still the same Sam who eats you out of house and home! Have you checked your fridge? 'Cause it's empty!" I smile, and it almost feels real.

Spence laughs a little, rubbing his arm, "True. The fridge _is_ barren. I'll go get some groceries." He moves to walk away, but pauses, looking back at me. "And... and I'll try Sam. But... it's hard when... when I see you and you're hurt. I don't know what else to do. Can- can you think about talking to me? I mean," His eyes flick to me, and I can see he's sincere, "I'm here for you Sam. For anything. You know I won't judge you."

And it makes me smile for real, this soft, vulnerable smile I can't stop. And I want to tell him, I really do. But I'm not ready. I nod slowly, "I know Spence. And... maybe I will... but... it's just, I mean right now it's-" I gesture, unsure how to explain my turmoil.

He nods understandingly. "It's okay. I'm always here. I mean," He rolls his eyes, "It's not like I have a job or anything."

I laugh, "Thanks Spence. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Freddie however-"

He waves a hand at me. "Eh, it's okay. You shouldn't keep things bottled up. I did that once and... it didn't end well." He grimaces and I grin,

"What happened?"

"I tackled a hotdog." He sees my incredulous expression. "A man dressed as hotdog."

My eyebrows furrow, "Um, why?"

Spencer's gaze gets distant, and he says in a wistful voice, "I'm not sure anymore." He seems to snap out of it, pointing a finger at me, "So you should never bottle things up. Or you just end up hurting people dressed as food. And yourself."

I make an 'A-Okay' sign with my hand. "Gotcha."

Spencer grins at me and goes, the door shutting softly behind him. I smile to myself, walking to the couch. And I feel a little better. Because I feel like maybe I can talk to Spencer, maybe I can tell him some of the shit that's tearing me up. I mean... I can't tell him about Carly... but the smaller stuff, I can get out... I can tell him. I guess there's just something about the Shay's that makes me want to open up. I laugh condescendingly, yeah, open up in all sorts of ways. Carly was the only one I'd ever confided in.

I put a hand to my head. Fuck it. I'm gonna talk to her. I'm not... I'm not just going to sit here and take this. I know that she's... I don't know, confused? I sigh. I'm not sure what she is. But I'm not gonna just let it go. I'm not just gonna accept this and let her hurt me. And I have to let her know that it _is_ hurting me. More than I can bear.

I sigh, getting off the couch and going to the fridge. It really is empty. All that's left is half a jar of pickles and some questionable Chinese food. I pull it out, sniffing at the box. I shrug and grab the pickles as well. I need something to do. Need something to distract me.

I trip as I walk back to the couch, the pickle jar shattering against my chest and forearm as I land heavily. I lay there for a second, feeling the cold juice and gooey Chinese soak into my shirt. I purse my lips, "Ah, fuck." I push myself up on hands, wincing as my hand grinds into the broken glass. Bad idea. My breath is knocked out when the pickle juice starts burning all the little cuts in my hand and arm. "Oh, _fuck_."

I stand there stupidly for a moment, just looking at the little pieces of glass in my arm, the blood mixing with the savoury juice. And of course that's when the apartment door opens.

"Hah, Sam, you won't believe this, but I got _all_ the way down to 'Hey Food!' when I realised- oh." Spencer rushes over to me, "Sam? Are you okay? Oh," He puts a hand out tentatively, hovering over my arm, "You're bleeding..."

And his eyes are all big and trembly, and it's kind of funny, except I can hear what he's thinking... and he thinks I did this to myself. The fact that I'm standing here, just... not even concerned really, doesn't help. But I laugh, somewhat uneasily, "Spence, it's okay! I just tripped. Really." I gesture at the floor.

He relaxes a little, taking in the mess on the floor. And on my shirt. "Well... here, let's get you over to the sink."

"Spence, you don't need to- _ah! Fuck! _That stings!" My eyes smart as the cold water hits my arm and hand.

"I know, but I've gotta get the glass out. And the... pickle juice? What were you planning to eat?"

I wince as he moves the hose down my arm, glass tinkling into the sink. "Um... Chinese and pickles?"

He rolls his eyes. "You couldn't wait twenty minutes?"

I give him a look.

"Oh, right. You're Sam. Sorry." He turns the tap off, hooking the hose back and taking my forearm, inspecting it closely. "Huh, there's still some glass in there. I'm gonna grab my tweezers. Hang on!" He jogs out of the kitchen, and I hear a scream and then a thud. "Ah! I'm okay... just slipped on the Chinese! Oh..." He limps off, and I have to laugh. So Spencer.

I take a moment to look at my arm. It looks a bit like when my cat Frothy attacked it, all covered in bright red scratches with little beads of blood welling. I flex my hand. Okay, it felt worse. I felt the split skin on my fingertips part when I moved them. That was gonna be annoying. But at least it wasn't my dominant arm. I mean, I can still wedgie a dork if I have to.

Spencer comes back out, clicking a pair of tweezers, "Found 'em!" He pauses in front of the mess on the floor, pointing an accusing finger at it before skirting around. "Now hold reallllll still."

I bite my lip as he picks the fragments of glass out. "So... what did you forget?"

"Oh." He looks confused for a moment. "My wallet." His eyes narrow as he digs a particularly deep piece of glass out. "Sam... was this... an accident?" I feel his hand tighten on my arm.

"Spence." I sigh, "Come on. You know me. I wouldn't- I mean..."

He nods, "I know, but... I had to ask. It just... you scared me. Before I left, you seemed... I don't know, like you were thinkin' pretty hard."

"I was... I am..." I frown, taking in the sight of my splattered and soaked clothes. "I think I need a change of clothes."

Spencer looks around, letting go of my arm. "I haven't done the laundry yet... did you want to borrow some of Carly's? She won't mind."

I smile wryly, "Oh, I think she would." I mutter, flexing my arm. "Can you take me to my mom's? I need to get some stuff anyway."

Spencer's face is soft. "You should talk to her."

"Look Spence, I know how you feel about this. But you don't know her like I do. She doesn't care! She's never cared! She's just worried now 'cause something finally happened and it makes _her_ look bad. She doesn't give a shit about me."

"Sam... you can't really believe that,"

I laugh bitterly, "She hasn't given me much reason to think otherwise. Look, she's not my mom. I mean, technically yeah, okay, but she's never acted like it. Don't try to change my mind about this Spence. Please."

He looks sad, and I guess maybe it's because he and Carly loved their mom so much. But he doesn't understand. My mom's only my mom in the sense that she gave birth to me. And I think she would have avoided that if she could. There was only ever supposed to be Melanie. I was never wanted, and my mom never had a problem letting me know that. So no, I don't think I'll talk to her. Just get in, get my shit, and get out. She's probably not even there. She never is during the day.

"Okay Sam, we'll go."

**A/N: I know what you're thinking... or, at least what you will be thinking, once I mention it. Sam only brought a couple of changes of clothes, and she hasn't been there (the apartment) that long. When she got her stuff initially, she sort of only grabbed a couple things and left. I don't know if you needed an explanation, but you have one. Also, somehow this chapter turned out really long... without actually really going anywhere, but, coming up... a confrontation with Sam's mom. And then more Carly stuff. And... I'm having some trouble getting the Carly part right, but... if I work it out, it's gonna hurt. Well... it hurts me.**

**Anyway, please review. I know I can write smut real well, but this stuff is hard... and I'm never really sure whether I've got it or not until I read your reviews. So please, continue kissing my ass ^_^ (I mean it in a good way ((but that good way)))**


	10. Chapter 10: I'm Nothing

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over iCarly. It does not belong to me, nor shall it ever, barring some sort of miracle or freak accident, a la Devil's Advocate. Or something. I'm not actually sure what that movie's about. I don't own it either.**

**A/N: Just a quick one. A rasher is a slice of bacon. The more you know.**

I struggle with the lock, jiggling the bobbypin around and feeling for the tumbler. Our lock sucks, but it's hard to pick because it's always getting replaced. Cops don't like knocking.

I get it finally, grimacing because the mess on my shirt is starting to flake. But at least it's half-dry now. I push the door open, wincing as the familiar smell of stale beer hits me. I don't see my mom on the couch, and I'm not going to look for her. I head for my room, kicking empty cans and bottles out of my way.

And she's been in here. I can tell. My bed is messy like someone slept on it, and my stuff's all messed around. Fuck. That's the one thing I told her never to do. To never _ever_ come in my room.

I shut my door and sit on the bed. It's... hard, being here. It... it brings back what happened. It makes me sick. And I just want to get my stuff and get out of here. I strip my shirt off, tossing it on the floor and making my way to a drawer. I pull out a clean shirt and tug it on, wandering over to my desk. And I smile, but it hurts, because there's a picture of me and Carly on it. And we look so happy. And I can't remember when we took it, and for some reason it makes me sad. I pick up the frame and take the picture out, slipping it into my pocket. I turn with a sigh and scoop up my bag, upending it and emptying all the junk out of it. I grab a few shirts and pairs of shorts, adding in some clean underwear. This place makes my skin crawl. Not that I loved it before, but it makes my body throb, and hurt, and even though I'm fighting off the memories, my body can't forget.

And it's making me angry. I zip up the bag and head for the door, and when I open it, there she is. My mom. And I feel that anger flare in me again, and fuck it, I'm gonna let her burn.

And she's just standing there in the doorway, not moving, so I shoulder my way past her, and she stumbles back. "Sam... you're back."

I turn, "No, I'm not back. I'm just here for my stuff, okay?" and it feels like my words are this bitter liquid, pouring out of me, like I'm draining this _thing_ inside me that I didn't even realise was full.

But the vitriol just slides off her, and she staggers forward, hands reaching for my face. "Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby."

I push her away, stepping back. "You're sorry?" I laugh, "You're sorry? It's a little late for that. You know what would've been better? If you had've done something!"

And she's still reaching out, trying to touch my hair softly, but her hands are shaking, and she just pulls it. "Sammy, sweetie, I couldn't-"

"What? You couldn't wake up? Because you were fucking passed out?" And she's too close, and I feel sick and hot and this _rage_... this anger just feels so good. And I push her back roughly, dropping my bag. "You wanna know?" I hiss, pushing her again, "You wanna know what your fucking _boyfriend_ did to me while you were _right there_?" I point at the couch, feeling this acid bursting through my veins and out of me. And I can see that she's crying, and it disgusts me, and I feel dirty for even touching her. But I lean in close, because I _need_ her to hear this. And I can smell the stale alcohol on her, and it turns my stomach. "He raped me." I whisper. "Right here, right against this wall." And she flinches. "So hard I bled. I bled, mom. While you were passed out _right there_."

And I turn away from her in disgust, stooping to pick my bag up.

"What was I supposed to do?" She sobs, and when I turn she's on the ground, weeping against that wall.

"You were supposed to be my mom. You were supposed to protect me, to take care of me." I laugh, shaking my head. "But why start now? You made it pretty clear you never wanted me. Well, you got your wish."

She raises her head, and she doesn't even bother to wipe away the tears, or the snot. "Please, Sammy, honey... it'll be different. We'll be a family again. I- I promise." And she tries to smile. Tries to smile at me.

And I'm shaking, and I want so bad to hit her, to just hit her and kick her until the pain goes away and I stop feeling like I have to scream. "We were _never_ a family. I was just a stain you couldn't get rid of. Don't pretend like it isn't true," And she's shaking her head, reaching out to my shoe with pleading hands. "You never wanted me. What's different now? What's so fucking different? What's gonna change, huh? You only want someone to take care of you, to put up with your fucking bullshit." I shake her hand off my foot, stepping back. "It's not gonna be me anymore. I don't care what happens to you. You've had my whole life to change. And you haven't. And now it's too late. Okay? Fucking time is up."

"Sam," And her voice is plaintive, but I can hear the falseness in it. Whatever hold she had over me as my mom is gone.

"No. I'm staying with Carly now. She actually cares about me, actually treats me like a human being, not some fucking doormat."

And she sits up shakily, smoothing her hair back, her tears gone. "What? You think your little friend Carly is going to want you?" And this is more the mom I know, the snide, condescending tone that always used to cut me to the bone when I was little, crush any self-worth or pride I might've had.

And I feel a white hot anger burn through me. "You leave her out of it. I swear to God-"

She laughs. "What? What are you gonna do Sam? When she realises what you really are? She's gonna get sick of you. Everyone always does."

And I flinch. Because it's true. Nobody's ever wanted me. Except for Carly... and now... I don't know. And it freezes me. Because I _don't know_.

"I'm all you've got Sam. What are you gonna do when she finds out you're no good? That you're just like your mom?"

"She... loves me." I swallow hard. "I'm not like you." And even as the words come out, I can feel they're a lie. Because I am like her. And I hate it so much.

My mom snorts, leaning on the wall heavily as she gets up. "Love you? Huh, that's rich. Who could love you?"

"Stop it." And my voice is shaking.

She looks away, putting a finger to her chin and pursing her lips. "Hmm, there was always something rotten in you. I could tell, right from the beginning. You always used to punch and kick whenever anyone tried to do anything with you. It's like you were missing something. Something... good inside you."

"Stop." And my eyes are stinging.

"Hell, you chased your father away. He couldn't handle you. And then you chased Melanie away. Hah, chased your own goddamn twin sister away."

"_Stop._" And my nails are digging into the palms of my hands, so hard.

"Even your own flesh and blood couldn't stand you. I'm all you've got. I'm the only one that'll take you. You think your little friend Carly is gonna put up with all your crap?"

"You don't get to say her name." I hiss through gritted teeth.

"Face it Sam. You know it's true. You're gonna drive her away just like everyone else. And then you'll come crawling back. And I'll be the one who has to put you back together again."

And I can feel my whole body shaking from this rage, this anger and fear that's coursing through me. "You never put me back together. You only ever tore me apart."

She rolls her eyes. "I can't help it that you were born bad Sam. I can't help it that you do all these things that make me look bad. I can't help it that you tempt my boyfriends-"

"What? What did you say?" I feel a muscle under my eye twitch and I step forward. And it's like a slap. "_He raped me_." I sound out every word, my jaw muscles working in my cheek.

And she looks nervous, like she knows she's gone too far. And I'm scared, scared of myself, because I don't know what I might do.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I take it back. I'm sorry baby." And now she's all apologies and sugared words again.

And she flinches when I grab her shoulders, shoving her against the wall. And my eyes are wide and dry as I say, "You're dead." And her eyes are flicking around, trying to escape my stare. "You're dead." And she can't, and she's taking short breaths, and my hands tighten, digging into the soft flesh, hurting her. "You're dead to me."

I shake her, shoving her into the wall again. "You're nothing." And I can feel my face twitching, the muscles going crazy as I fight to stop my hands from wrapping around her neck. And they itch to squeeze the breath from her, to finally shut her up. "You're nothing." I whisper, and let her go with a final shove. I pick up my bag again and go, not stopping for anything, and my teeth are hurting from gritting them so hard. And I hate her. I hate her so much. Hate that she gets to me. Hate that she takes away my control, and makes me feel like a little kid again. And I hope to god she doesn't come after me, because I swear I'd kill her. And it scares me how badly I wanted to, how close I came. And I'm still shaking as I get to the car, Spencer tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of a song. And I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

I slip into the passenger seat, closing the door with a _thunk_. Spencer smiles brightly at me, turning the music down. "Hey, how'd it go? You see your mom?"

I put my bag in the backseat, turning back and staring out the windshield, pushing my anger down into a hard little ball and forcing nonchalance. Because she is nothing. She is no one. She can't hurt me. She's nothing. And my hands tighten in my lap, gripping each other.

"No. I didn't see anyone."

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had a friend over, and I'm still sick, and then I was sort of in this car accident... and I've been lazy. But whatever. And mostly because I've had these ideas gestating in my head, but they're taking too long... sooo, I'm forcing a premature birth of some of them. I can feel the potential in this, but I'm not sure it's good, but I'm happy with it. Reasonably happy.**

**Let me know what you think. Writing this made me angry, grrr.**

**So you should review. Or... y'know... I'll kick your ass. Dude.**

**Seriously. Review. I'm suffering withdrawal symptoms, which is basically me just rocking back and forth, lit only by the glow of my laptop whispering, "Reviews, I need reviews, c'mon man, just one, just one review, just enough to keep me goin' y'know?"**

**So yeah. You don't want that.**


	11. Chapter 11: A Friend In Need

**Disclaimer: Own iCarly? Why no good sir, I merely bastardized the concept.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Inspiration has not been forthcoming. You know those fishing rods they have for cats? I think they're called 'teasers' or something. Or a thirty-second sort-of trailer for a movie... I think they're called teasers as well. This is what this chapter **_**sort of**_** is. And I apologise, but due to length restrictions (my own), and wanting to get **_**something**_** published, this inadvertently became a teaser of sorts. But I think you'll like it.**

I get back the apartment and Spencer's following me, waiting for me to do something. And I might have been ready to talk to him before, but my mom's words are buzzing in my head, running around and around and nipping at me with sharp little teeth. I go up to the studio for some peace, chewing on my nails nervously. I know she's full of bullshit. I know she just said that stuff to hurt me, to force me back to her... but... she had a point. What if Carly was getting sick of me? What if she didn't love me anymore? I mean, I know she doesn't _love _me love me, but... what if it's not even as a friend anymore? With all that's happened between us... all that's happening to us _now_... I'm not sure anymore. I have to talk to her. I can't stay in this... this limbo, where I don't know where I stand with her. I love her. I'm in love with her. In every possible way. I can't help it. I wish I could. But I have no idea how she feels about me. I mean... I never thought I had a chance, never _deserved_ a chance. And then after... when she said she felt something... I thought something would've happened, that things would have changed. But they haven't. I have no idea. She loves me, she loves me not, and I'm all out of petals.

And I fight with it the rest of the day. Should I talk to her? But once I do... I'll know, and it has the potential to hurt. A high potential. And I can take physical pain, I can ignore that, but I can't take the emotional pain. I can't fight it. And I'll do anything to avoid it. But I can't keep going like this, my mom's word burrowing deeper into my brain, sowing these pessimistic seeds of doubt. And Carly notices my long looks at her, she senses that I'm almost constantly on the verge of saying something to her. But I can't. I want to, but I can't.

Even as we head to bed, I'm fighting myself. Should I? Shouldn't I? Even as I slip under my blanket, even though I'm wide awake, fidgeting restlessly.

I toy with a loose thread on the blanket, chewing my lip. No. I have to do it now. I stand, the blanket slipping from me. No. I can't. What if- I shake my head. I have to.

I take a deep breath, pausing at the foot of the stairs. Once I do this... there's no coming back. Once it's done, it's done. It is what it is.

I swallow hard. Hardly words of encouragement. But be brave, just be brave _for once_. I go up the stairs slowly, gripping tight to the railing, faltering outside her door, my hand raised. I grit my teeth and rap my hand lightly against the wood, the sound staccato in the silence. And it seems like the door opens almost immediately, but my sense of time is all screwed up.

She wasn't asleep. She doesn't look like she's been sleeping. Her brow crinkles. "Sam?"

No dodging, no skirting, no avoiding why you're here. Just say what you have to say. "We need to talk. Now."

Carly looks away, but she moves out of the doorway, to the side, gesturing me in. I run a hand through my hair, my fingers tangling in the thick locks, and walk over to her bed, sitting on it. I think better and stand. And even now I can't ignore the way her body affects me. And my eyes linger on the smooth skin of her legs, the shorts barely covering anything, her singlet, revealing a sliver of skin before the waistband of her shorts start. And I can see the beginnings of her hips, and my hands itch to be there. My eyes flick up to her face, and she's staring at me, knowing.

She crosses her arms, hugging herself as if she's cold, and walks over to me. "So where do we start?" Her voice is quiet and serious. And sad. And it's like she's dropping an act, and I can see how tired she is, how much this has affected her.

And I have to put my hands in my pockets to stop from touching her. I want to make her feel better. But it's not my place. I sigh. "Let's start with last night. What was that?"

Her eyes shift away from me, and they're almost black in this light, and impossible to read. She moves uncomfortably on her feet. "I- I don't know. I..." She's biting her lip, hesitating, and I grab her shoulders. I have to know. Have to make her look at me. And it works. "I just wanted to." Her voice is soft, so quiet, and it makes me aware of how close we are. And her arms uncross, her hands sliding around my waist and she leans her head closer.

And I know she's going to kiss me, can see it in the way she's looking at me now, her lips parted, and I can feel my self-control crumbling. "Please Carly... please-"

_Don't do this._

Her lips touch mine lightly, and she sighs at the contact, pressing harder. And I can't stop myself from responding, can't stop my arms from wrapping around her and drawing her closer. And I feel like I'm falling apart. Like I'm crumbling.

I pull back, breaking free of her and I back away, my hands up defensively. My breath is uneven, and I feel this turmoil in me. Because I want to kiss her again.

"Why? Why can't you... tell me?"

She sighs, crossing to her bed and sitting on it, drawing her legs up under her. I sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. I can't be too close to her.

"You're my best friend Sam."

I snort. "Am I?"

She looks up, her eyes wide. And she looks scared. "Yes. You are." She says the words slowly and deliberately.

And I feel my gut churn as I realise something. "Are you... are you doing this because I said I loved you? Because you think this is what I want?"

A wave of frustration sweeps through me, and most of it's directed at myself. I feel myself working up into a frenzy. "What, you have to put yourself up to this? To- to kissing me at night because you can't stand it during the day? Do you think this is what you have to do to keep me? To keep from losing me? This isn't what I want. I don't want you kissing me because you're scared I'm gonna run away."

Carly leans forward and takes my hand, and it silences me. She bites her lip, edging closer to me. "Sam, I'm not doing this because I'm scared of losing you. I'm doing this because I'm scared of- of the way I feel around you. You're my best friend. And you're a _girl_. I don't- I shouldn't feel like this. I don't wanna feel like this!"

It undoes me. I feel my anger and frustration drain away instantly and I'm scared at the intensity of the moment. She squeezes my hand. And although her words were sad and I could hear her distaste at herself, she's drawing closer to me. Her fingers brush my chin lightly, lifting my face. And her lips are soft, and I feel something in me flutter at the sincerity of her kiss. Her lips are trembling when she pulls back, sighing.

"But I can't help it... I can't fight it." She kisses me again, quick, light, hungry kisses that stoke this fire inside me. "I want you Sam. I want you so much it scares me." And she's smiling, but her voice is weak and terrified. She kisses me again, making a small sound in the back of her throat that sends shivers through me. And I can tell, I can feel that she wants me, and her lips linger on me before she pulls away. She licks her lips, and I unconsciously mimic the action, tasting her on me.

**A/N: I was originally going to do this in one chapter, but it's gonna turn out **_**waaaay**_** too long and it's... well, it's taking a while. Tenderness is harder than it looks. But it's half-done, so you shouldn't have to wait too long.**

**And let's face it. I looove being a tease :P**

**So please review. Let me know if you like where this is going. It's not all sunshine, lollipops and rainbow puppies, but it's sure gonna feel like it next chapter. **

**Also, the reason it's taking so long... I wrote it already, but it came out too rough for what I wanted. So I'm trying a little tenderness. But you'll get what I wrote first as well, just a bit later.**

**Review, review! Hmm, for some reason I feel like I'm shouting, 'Repent! Repent!' and, considering the context, I guess it's pretty apt :P so... confess here. I won't tell no one 'bout your dirty secrets. Unless... you know... it's funny or I can make money off it.**


	12. Chapter 12: The Line

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything about iCarly. All I own are my ideas, which care to move through pre-established, copyrighted characters.**

**A/N: I'll put everything up here, 'cause I don't want to lose the effect this has. I do hope it has an effect :D Please to let me know. If it affects you anything like it has me, it should hurt, and I apologise, 'cause hurt... well, hurts, but it means I'm doing good, writing some good stuff. And that makes me feel happy again... 'cause writing this makes me sad. So review, and make me happy ^_^**

Carly lays back on the bed, her hand still in mine, pulling me towards her so I follow, leaning over her. She's lying there, and she looks so vulnerable, so open it makes my heart lunge painfully in my chest. And she's looking at me with this raw need, her eyes huge and dark, her lips parted slightly, and they're so pink, and I can hear her breathing. She's nervous. And I know exactly how she's feeling – like this shouldn't be happening, it isn't right... she shouldn't want me like this, and she's scared that I'll touch her, but she'll die if I don't.

It makes me ache, and I bring my lips to hers, taking a deep breath. I can smell her, and it makes me dizzy. She lifts a hand to my face, her fingers shaking against my cheek. Her fingers are tentative on my face, and there's a tenderness, a wonder in it that destroys me inside and I smile shakily, my own hand moving to stroke her cheek.

"I- I love you." I kiss her lightly.

A look of trepidation crosses her face. "Sam, I- I can't-" I kiss her again, silencing her.

"I- I don't expect you to say it back or anything. I just... I just had to say it."

She lets out a long, unsteady breath, "Sam..." She grabs hold of my shirt and pulls me to her, kissing me hard. I know she can't say it back. I don't expect her to. I don't want her to lie. But she had to know that I want her, all of her. And she's deepening the kiss, tracing her tongue over my lips, and I meet her with my own, letting her into my mouth. Her hands move to my waist, slipping up under my shirt to touch my skin, and I press myself against her, needing her touch.

I wish I could keep my mouth fused to her forever, that we didn't have to part to breathe, but the feeling of her hot breath on my face, the way our lips meet again, sliding together... it melts me. Our kisses are growing harder, longer, and Carly takes my lower lip, biting it lightly, and I moan.

"Unh, Carly..." And the way she's looking at me is making me quiver, her eyes heavy with lust, her face flushed with arousal.

Her hands play with the bottom of my shirt and she bites her lip. "Can I...?"

I nod, taken aback, and she lifts my shirt, sitting up a little. I raise my arms, Carly disappearing from view for a moment before the shirt is off, my blonde curls tumbling down my shoulders. And she's looking at me, checking to see if I'm okay with this, before her gaze traces it's way down, and I can almost feel her eyes caressing me. Her eyes flick back to me, "You're beautiful." And she says it in a hushed tone, her hands moving to lightly brush my stomach. My lips tremble and I can't help but smile, this vulnerable, pathetic smile that makes me feel more exposed than the undressing.

I move my gaze to the hem of her singlet, my fingers toying with it. I give her a questioning look, my fingertips brushing her flat stomach. She nods, and I lift the flimsy material, Carly raising herself off the bed to help me. And I can't help but look at her, can't help but drink her in reverently. Her skin is smooth and flawless, and I long to touch her, long to make her arch into me, say my name. Her fingers brush my face again, drawing me to her, and I shiver when our bare torsos touch each other. And our kisses are tender, explorative, and I move a hand to her breast cautiously, feeling the soft flesh goosebump under my fingers. I hear her breath catch and I sneak a quick look at her. Her eyes are boring into me, and I've never had anyone look at me like this before... like they wanted something only I could give them, and they wanted it more than they could express in words.

And I have to kiss her. I have to touch her. I have to _devour_ her. My lips leave hers reluctantly, but I have to touch them to her skin, have to taste her. I trace them over her neck, and I can feel her pulse throbbing wildly against my lips. I plant soft, tender kisses, a hot unsteady breath between each caress, and I suck lightly on the smooth flesh, grazing it with my teeth. Carly moans in response, her hands fluttering on me. I have to pause to take a breath, this quivery burn licking through me, and I'm overcome, I'm overwhelmed by her, by my lust, by the emotions running through me. So I just stop, just for a moment, just to _realise_ it, just to look at her.

Just to breathe.

But she takes it away, her hands moving up my torso, tickling over my ribs, and I suck in a breath as Carly's hands move tentatively to my breasts, cupping the firm swells of flesh.

She's touching me. I can feel her.

I shiver, "Carly?" And it's like a moan and a plea, and I don't even recognise my own voice. Her thumbs brush over my nipples as she leans up to kiss me, and I gasp into her mouth, feeling a surge of pleasure burst through me. I shudder, tracing my lips down her neck again, moving to her breasts. And I can hear her unsteady breaths, her hands moving to tangle in my hair. I run my tongue around the curvature of her breast, tasting the slight salt of her sweat. Her skin is amazingly soft, the scent of her bodywash filling my lungs. I latch onto the pink nipple, flicking the hard nub with my tongue. Carly jerks, gasping, her hands tightening in my hair. I graze my teeth over the nub, nipping lightly, my eyes watching her intently as she puts a hand to her mouth, throwing her head back and suppressing a moan. I increase the pressure, Carly's body bucking against me. Her eyes burn me, her hands circling my face and drawing me up to her. She kisses me softly, intensely, and when we part she takes my hand gently, moving it down over her stomach, and I feel the muscles shiver. She moves my hand between her legs, rubbing it lightly over the bunched up material of her shorts. She releases my hand and I rest it between her legs, feeling the heat emanating from her. "Are... are you sure?" I ask her in a hoarse whisper, my hand flexing against her.

She bites her lip, her hips moving against me slightly. And then she nods. "I need you." Her voice is soft, and trembling, and I swallow hard, feeling a swell of love for her.

I touch my lips to her shaking ones, tasting her in a soft kiss, and she responds, jerking when I start moving my hand, rubbing her lightly, feeling her through the material of her shorts. And this is my chance to apologise, to make it the way I imagined it, to whitewash the past and make her feel me. Make her feel the love in it.

Her breath spurts shallowly against my lips, interspersed with quick kisses, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. She pushes into my hand, wanting the contact, and I stop for a moment. Her eyes are shut tight, and I want to see them. And when she opens them there's a mixture of fear, and lust, and something I can't identify that makes my heart pound. I tear my eyes away from hers for a moment, looking down to my hand as I move it up, slipping it under the waistband of her shorts, and under the damp material of her panties. And then I'm touching her.

I wish she wasn't scared. I wish that she could love me. But this is real life, and it's all I get. So I'll make the most of it, and take what I can get. Because I love her, and I'm weak. I can't break away from her, and I can't force her to love me. But I can love her. She _wants_ me to love her.

I move my fingers along her hot core, feeling her wetness, her velvet flesh and she shudders, pushing up against me. And it's like she's tugging this string in me, this string that runs along my spine, and every time it's pulled, my heart's yanked up into my throat, and something drops in me. It makes me struggle for breath. I find her clit, applying pressure to it, and she moans, her breath feathering my neck hotly. I kiss her and rub harder, flicking my fingertips over the sensitive nub, and her cries are muffled by my mouth, and I feel them vibrate through me. We break apart and she's shivering, her breath short and shallow, and I just watch her in amazement, watching the way my movements affect her. And I'm in awe that I can do this, can bring her so much pleasure with just a stroke of my fingers, just a lightly traced pattern. That I can make her jerk, and twitch, make her breath escape her, make her hands tighten on me, make these _sounds_ come out of her that steal my senses. I rub harder, Carly's back arching off the bed, and she gives a low moan that I echo, entranced by her. And I wish this could last forever. Wish it never had to end, that we'd never have to deal with it, that nothing would ever have to change. But I can hear her breath sobbing out in short bursts, feel her body start to tense, and I know she's close. And I can't deny her this. I've never been able to say no to her. So I rub her harder, in quick, short strokes, her head thrown back into the bed, and I watch her as she comes. Her cry stops my heart, her body pressing up into mine and I shiver, mesmerised. And it's like time stops, just for a moment, and I know she's feeling something amazing, and I know that I've made her feel this. Me. I'm the one who's brought her so much pleasure. Made her come, so hard. And the thought makes my heart feel heavy, and hot, and presses hard against my lungs, forcing the breath out.

I bury my head into her, feeling a tremor through me and it makes me feel sick and dizzy and hot. Because I love her, so much. And it hurts, in such a good way. So I keep my face snuggled into her hair, just breathing her, hearing her pant as her body starts to relax.

Carly sits up, swinging her legs to the side of the bed, her breath still unsteady. My brow furrows as my skin starts to cool off, robbed of her body heat. And I can see that she's got her head in her hands, fingers twisting in her hair.

"Carly?" I don't want to say anything, because I can tell I'm not going to like it, but I have to. She's upset. I sit up and scoot over next to her, trying to see her face. "Are you... are you okay?"

I hear a soft sound that's like a hook, driving up through my insides, and I peer more intently, a sense of dread looming over me. She's crying. Soft little sobs that wrack her body, each one like a punch to me. "D-don't cry... please?"

She lifts her head, sniffing, swiping at her eyes. "Can- can you go? Please? I need- I can't," She sobs, "I just-" And it's like I've swallowed a shotput, and it's sinking down, down into me. I stand quietly, finding my shirt and slipping it back on. I stand at the door, unsure. I don't want to leave her when she's so upset. Even if it is me she's upset with.

"Carly?"

Her eyes are red, her face shiny with tears, and it's cutting into me, chafing me. "Please, Sam... please just go. I need to-" She shudders, adjusting her legs, and I can tell that's she's still feeling me. "I need to... think."

I swallow hard, my hand playing with the doorknob. "Think about what?"

Her eyes fill with tears again and I feel another stab. "Sam..." She gasps, putting her head in her hands again.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, slipping out the door. I close, leaning against it for a moment. I know I have nothing to be sorry for. But I'm sorry she's sad. I'm sorry it hurts – hurts her, hurts me. I can't stop hurting people. Even when I make them feel good, I'm still hurting them.

I wanted to talk to her. Wanted to sort this out. She loves me, she loves me not. I'm her friend. And she wants me. But she doesn't want to want me. And I think I've just hurt her more. But I couldn't help myself.

It's no excuse. It doesn't make it right. I go down the stairs with a heavy feeling in me, and I just want to sleep, just want oblivion, and to never wake up. Not have to see her face and feel it tear me up all over again. But at least I had that moment, that brief time when she wanted me, and I could see, I could _feel _that she wanted me. And she did. I have that.

But it's not enough. I throw myself heavily onto the sofa, feeling numb. What do I do? What can I do? Why can't I-?

No. Just sleep. It's all you can do. So I sleep, somehow. I bring my knees up, pulling the blanket up over me, and sleep, the scent of her on me.

**A/N: Please review.**


	13. Chapter 13: Better In The Dark

**Disclaimer: iCarly I do not own.**

**A/N: I feel like it's basically filler this chapter... but I'm not really sure what I'm building up to. Anyway, there's characterisation and shit, so... it's valuable in its own way. Plus... it's actually pretty long. I don't know how that happened.**

**Anyway.**

"Spence, can... can we talk?"

When I woke up this morning, she was already gone. It's part of why I slept so long. For once in my life, I didn't want to see her. I know that she wants me, and I know that I want her... so why can't it be simple? Why can't we just be together? But she's fighting it, and I don't know why. No. I do know why. Because I'm a girl... because I'm... me. It's me, it's always been me. And I don't want to think this way, don't want to keep blaming myself for everything, but it's hard not to with the way she's acting. I promised myself I'd never touch her without permission again, without her wanting it... and she did want it... then why do I feel so guilty? Why do I feel like I've... like I've raped her.

I can't stop. I can't stop running it through my head. I can't stop feeling her, seeing her, _hearing_ her. I can't stop remembering what it was like to touch her, to make her moan and buck under me. It's tearing me apart.

I can't keep it in me anymore. It's like poison steeping in my veins. And it's almost funny, because in situations like this, it'd be Carly I'd run to. I could hear Spencer pottering around behind me, looking in on me. He was worried. But then he was always worried these days. But I hadn't had breakfast. I wasn't even hungry. And I could tell that scared him. I hadn't even gotten off the couch, just sat here with my knees drawn up, thinking in circles.

So when I asked him, I wasn't surprised that he heard me, even though I didn't know where in the apartment he was.

"Sure Sam. What did you want to talk about? Do you want some breakfast?"

I shake my head and he frowns. I know sometimes Spencer comes off as a goofball... an irresponsible manchild, but he's been more of a parent to me than... than anyone. He may not have the best judgment, or be mature... but he cares. And that's enough.

He's scooting towards me awkwardly on the couch, touching my shoulder hesitantly. And I have to smile, because he's so bad at it. So bad at comforting me, and he's so uncomfortable doing it. But he's trying. I take a deep breath and stare at my knees.

"Spence... I'm gay." I sneak a glance at him. He's shocked, his mouth hanging open. After a moment he closes it slowly, and I see his throat work.

"You're... you're sure?"

I nod, hugging my knees tighter. I figure I am. I mean... I've never felt anything for guys really, it's always just been so I could gossip with Carly about them. I mean... I tried to like them, but... I don't know, they kinda make me sick. And it's not that I'm crazy about girls... it's just Carly. It's always been Carly, even before it was Carly it was Carly. And she's a girl, so ergo, I'm gay. I know that technically it's not right, but... I'm one of those people that need a label. I need to be clearly defined. And gay is what fits me best.

Spence hugs me, kissing the top of my head. "It's okay Sam. I don't care." His brow furrows. "I mean, I do care, but I'm not judging you or anything. It's fine. It's good. Girls are great."

I feel a smile spreading across my face despite myself. "Spence..."

He nods, pursing his lips. "I know. I'm rambling. But..." He looks at me questioningly. "This... this isn't 'cause of what happened... is it? I know. Stupid question." He winces as I shiver at the mention of... of what happened. "I'm sorry. Forget I asked."

I chew the inside of my lip. "Spence... you... you wouldn't ever do that to someone would you?" I know he wouldn't, but I have to ask. I just- I just have to.

Spencer's voice is soft. "Sam... of course I wouldn't."

I scrunch down further into the couch, burying my face in my knees. And I'm scared, because if I let this out... I'll get an answer, and I'm terrified of what it could be. "What if I was asking for it?"

Spencer's arm tightens on me. "Sam, look at me. C'mon." He lifts my face, forcing me to look at him. His face is serious and sad. "Nobody, _nobody_ asks for that-"

"Wh-what if I deserved it?"

A muscle under his eye twitches, and he looks furious. I've never seen Spencer angry, not angry like this. "Sam, you can't believe that."

My eyes slide away from his intense gaze. He shakes me a little. "Sam! You can't believe that! Sam..." He sighs, his hand rubbing my shoulder. "Why would you- does this have something to do with your mom? What did she say?"

I shrug. "Nothing new."

"Sam..."

My mouth twists. "She... said I tempted her boyfriends. Do... do I do that?"

Her words have affected me more than I thought. But of course they have. She's my mom. She knows me better than anyone. She sees right through me. Of course she's under my skin.

"Sam... you're just a kid. You don't... you didn't ask for this. It's not your fault."

I unfold my legs and Spence hugs me tighter to him. "I- I know. But... I'm not a good person-"

"Sam, look. I don't know how to make you believe me, but you're a good person. Look, we both agree Carly's good, right? And I know she loves you more than anyone. You're her best friend Sam, and Carly's a good kid. She wouldn't be your friend if she didn't see something in you."

Spence seems to take my breakdown as acceptance of his speech, but oh, if only he knew how much he was hurting me, how much he was tearing me up. It's like he's making me chug a glass of tacks, and my throat feels all raw and swollen.

"And what's more Sam, I _know_ you're good. I've seen Carly after you two fight, and nothing makes her happy until you two are together again. You make her happy Sam. A bad person couldn't do that. You make my little sister happy Sam, and I love you for that. I _know_ you're a good person. And you didn't deserve any of what happened to you."

I make her happy. His words stream over me, some sinking into me and biting deep. Happy.

I pull myself off the couch, struggling to breathe. Each breath rushes in, bitterly cold and stinging my raw lungs. Spencer stands too, and I turn away from him, trying to keep my gasped breaths quiet. "Sam... I-"

"I- I- I-" I feel like a goldfish, my mouth gaping open, my teeth chattering. I wrap my arms tightly around me to keep them from shaking. Fuck. I make her _happy_. Jesus fucking Christ. "I n-need to b-be... alone." I forced the words out, and I hate that they're almost sobs. Fucking Spencer.

His hand tightens on my shoulder for a moment, like he's thinking of making me stay, but then his grip loosens and slides off. I don't know if he says anything to me as I rush for the stairs, needing to get up them before my vision blurs. I go up to the iCarly studio, locking the door behind me. I leave the light off. It's dark and cool in here, and I slump down in one of the dimly outlined beanbags.

Goddamnit Spencer. I thought I was safe talking to you. I thought you'd fucking help me. But he didn't know. How could he?

It's not long before my tears run out and I'm just left with dry sobs, my body heaving. My eyes feel hot and puffy, and every tremor that runs through me hurts. I can't cry anymore. I can't pity myself anymore. But...I...just...can't...pull...myself...together.

My hands crawl through my hair, gripping tight and tugging hard. The pain took my mind off her, made me gasp. It was pure, and it didn't hurt me inside, only outside. I could deal with outside pain. I twisted my fingers tighter, tears stinging my eyes. It felt good. It felt real. There was only pain, there weren't all these reasons that made it hurt more, or less. It was just... pure.

I don't know how long I was in there – the darkness didn't change. I guess if you were into symbolism, you could say it was... womb-like almost. Y'know, the whole 'warm and safe' cliché. But I was pretty sure I'd never felt safe around my mom, even when I was... 'in' her. Ugh. Gross.

I was staring into space, trying to keep my mind blank when I heard a gentle knocking on the door. I turned my head disinterestedly, not really caring about who was there. I wasn't going to let them in. They were determined though. I heard the key twist in the lock and I sighed. "Spence, just leave me alo-" My words dried up in my mouth. "C-carly?"

She closed the door behind her, rubbing the back of her head. "Hey," Her voice was soft. "Um, Spencer called me." Fucking Spencer. He was _not_ in my good books anymore.

I turn more towards her. I can't help looking at her, even now. Especially now. "What'd he say?"

She came over, sitting heavily in the beanbag opposite me. And all of a sudden, I'm wishing it wasn't so dark, so I could see her better, 'cause my eyes are straining, trying to make out her face. "Not much," She admitted, tenting her hands, "He's- he's worried about you Sam. I... I'm worried about you."

I laugh mirthlessly. "Oh, me? I'm fine. Fucking peachy." And even in the dark, I can tell she's not finding this as amusing as I am.

"Sam... that's not funny. Spence told me you talked to your mom."

I smiled tightly. "To be fair, she did most of the talking."

"Sam..." Carly sighed, leaning forward, and I feel her hand brush my forearm tentatively.

"Sorry." I say quietly. And my skin tingles from where she touched me. I'd never really told Carly much about my mom. She knew enough to know our relationship wasn't good. She knew enough to not ask.

"What did she say to you?"

I looked up, finding her eyes in the darkness. "She said you didn't love me. She said that pretty soon, you'd realise what a piece of shit I was and kick me out. She said you'd get sick of me." I chuckled, and it hurt my throat, like it was forced out of me. "I think she had a point, don't you Carls?"

Carly growled, standing quickly and yanking me up with her roughly. Her grip was tight on my arm, but I was too surprised to shake her off. "Sam stop it!"

I regained my composure, shrugging my shoulders, but it only made her grip tighter, and I was pretty sure it was going to bruise. And somehow, the pain didn't make me angry. It made me feel weak, knowing that she was going to leave a mark on me.

"Stop acting like this!"

"Like what? How am I supposed to act?" My voice is incredulous, but I'm finding it hard to stir up indignation. I feel so washed out.

She sighs angrily, pulling me into a tight hug. And her body is so warm, pressed so hard against mine. I just stand there, my face against her shoulder, breathing her in, my arms slack at my sides. "You're supposed to act like you're worth something. 'Cause you're worth a lot Sam. To Spence... to Freddie... to me."

I nuzzle into her, my hands moving to her waist. "I- I know. It's just... she's my mom. It's hard not to believe something you've been hearing all your life. Especially when it feels true."

There's nothing she can say to that, and I feel her hand start to stroke my hair, running over the curls softly. "I- I made you cry." I don't want to talk about it. But I'm so safe in her arms, so protected with my face nuzzled into her hair. I just wanna stay like this. But I can't keep my big mouth shut. "Last night. After-"

She shushes me, and I take the hint and shut up, exhaling shakily through my mouth, my breath hot on her skin. I feel her shiver. And then she's letting me go, and I release her reluctantly. "C'mon, let's go to the Groovy Smoothie. I'm buying..." Her voice is bright and false, but it cheers me up, and I follow her downstairs.

Spencer's hovering again, trying to pretend he's not checking up on us. He's not out of trouble yet though. Sure I feel better, but it's the kind of better you feel when they snap a bone back into place. And Spencer's the one who broke it. I feel kinda special that Carly came home from school. It meant she cared. I mean, I knew she cared... but sometimes it was nice to have proof. Plus I knew how important school was to her. But it also makes me feel bad, knowing that I'm fucked up enough to warrant her coming home from school without hesitance. Knowing that I'm fucked up enough for Spencer to call her in the first place.

I must be feeling better though, 'cause my stomach is starting to growl at me angrily, and I realise I haven't eaten anything all day. And that thought horrifies me more than anything.

**A/N: To be honest, I really didn't have anything planned when I started writing this chapter. It was basically just like vitriol pouring from me, and I pretty much just wrote it as it came. **

**On a (somewhat) lighter note, I realise I swore a lot in this chapter. I like that .**

**So, blah blah blah, review, tell me if I did any good this chapter, or whether my vitriol is distasteful to you, etcetera, etcetera.**

**That's right. I used the whole word, not the abbreviation. Twice. That's how serious I am. That's an extra four seconds of my life gone, spent on making sure you get a whole word to emphasise my point. So... you're pretty much obligated to review now.**

**Please to let me know if you're invested in this story. I ain't writing this for shits and giggles. Man... I really can't stop swearing now. Fuck. That's not good. Heh heh... it's still kinda funny though.**


	14. Chapter 14: Brain Freeze

**A/N: I do not own iCarly. It'd be pretty awesome though, right?**

**A/N: Oh what an airy-fairy chapter lies ahead. But I like it. It makes this story a little less angst-y. Plus it'll make a nice contrast to the next chapter.**

"..And his pants split right down the middle!" Carly laughed, taking a sip of her smoothie.

I shook my head, grinning. "Oh man, I would've given anything to see that!"

I felt good. Really good. It was just like old times, just hanging out with Carly at the Groovy Smoothie. And the best part was, she paid for my smoothie! And French fries!

It was just the two of us. I didn't know where Freddie was... still at school probably, but I didn't want him here anyway. It would've ruined the moment. She was happy, and she was laughing, and she was acting like my best friend again. And it was good, because being here, having fun with Carly – I could dismiss my mom's words. And if what she said about Carly getting sick of me wasn't true, then maybe all the other stuff she said was a lie as well.

Her hand brushes mine reaching for the French fries, and she doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch, and I smile to myself. In fact, it seems like her hand lingers for a moment. But I'm not going to think about that. The most important thing is she's my friend. She can stand to be around me, can stand to look at me, which is more than she could do last night. I smile at her, and she smiles back.

Carly takes another sip of her smoothie, looking at me questioningly. "So you're talking to Spencer now?"

I play with a napkin, shrugging. "I don't know. I guess."

She touches my hand lightly and I look up. "It's good. He's a good listener."

I chomp on another French fry, licking the salt from my lips. "How's Ted doing? Must be a relief right?"

Carly's brow furrows and she smiles, "Principal Franklin? I think he actually misses you."

I snort, "Really?"

She nods, "Yeah, he always asks how you're doing."

I grin, "Aw, ain't that sweet? What about Briggs?"

Carly laughs, "She's never been happier!"

I shake my head, "Now that's not right!" I reach for another French fry, my hand scrabbling in the container. Carly laughs as my face drops. "All gone." I sigh, licking the salt and oil from my fingertips. It freezes me inside when I look up and see Carly watching me intently, with that same look she had last night. I retract my tongue back into my mouth, swallowing hard. Carly blinks a few times before putting on a false smile and taking a sip of her smoothie, eyes darting away.

I grab my smoothie, taking a long, cold sip, trying to freeze my thoughts. My thoughts that keep telling me 'You touched her, you felt her come, you felt her touch you,' and I hiss as the cold spreads behind my nose and forehead. Carly smiles sympathetically. "Brain freeze?"

I open an eye, a hand pinching the bridge of my nose. "Yeah." I crush the empty container and stand, stretching. Carly stands too, moving over to me, toying with the straw of her smoothie.

"Hey Sam," She chews the straw, twirling it between her lips, and I know I shouldn't be staring, but she's so goddamned close. "I was thinking... maybe we should do iCarly again. If you're ready... I mean, if you want to. You don't have to, it's just-"

I let her go for minute, just because it's fun to watch her get flustered. I hold up my hand eventually, silencing her, "Carls, it's fine. I want to. Actually..." I shift my eyes from side to side, motioning her closer, "I have a few ideas." I flick my eyebrows up, grinning.

She laughs. "Really?"

I pout, "What, you think I spend all day sleeping and eating?"

She shrugged, "Actually, yeah. That's all you ever did at school."

I take her smoothie off her, tossing mine in the trash. "Yeah, well, it's like they say, 'Boredom is the aphrodisiac of creativity'."

Carly wrinkled her nose as I took a sip of her smoothie, trying to look sage. "Who says that? And gimme my smoothie back!"

I shrug, relinquishing said drink. "It was either a porno or a documentary. Or a documentary about porn." I raise my eyes pensively to the ceiling, "Or maybe it was a dream..."

"I thought Spencer had those channels blocked."

I smirk at her. "He did."

Carly shakes her head, but there's amusement in her eyes, and I can see the little smile at the corner of her lips. She shakes her smoothie in disgust before tossing it out, and I feel a little bad that I drank the last of it. Not that bad though. I know what her mouth tastes like now. It's like it's months ago, when she didn't know I loved her, and I was blissfully unaware of what real problems were. Where every little touch meant something, even though I never let on, and I could touch her however I wanted to (within reason) and it didn't make anything weird. It was nice, really nice, except it jarred every now and again when my brain reminded me that this was now, and things were majorly different.

We head back to the apartment, and I forgot how bright the sun could be, how good it could feel shining on you. And how much it hurts to look at it. Ouch. I blink a few times, trying to clear my watering eyes. And somehow it seems completely natural when Carly slips her hand into mine, swinging our arms back and forth, and we're singing some stupid song by the time we get to the lobby, and we just laugh at Lewbert's screams of rage.

We settle in the iCarly studio, and the rest of the day seems to go too fast, and when I think it about, I can't even remember what we talked about. I just know that it was the same as before, and yet so much different. It sounds so stupid to say that, but just to listen to us, it was the same. Except I noticed all these little things that weren't there before. Carly looked at me, her eyes flicked over me, and she'd purse her lips slightly. She'd go to touch me, but refrain at the last moment, so her fingertips just brushed me, and somehow that so meant so much more than if she had touched me. And when I'd say something that made her smile, it'd linger, and she'd look down for a moment, before flicking her eyes back up to me. I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. Maybe I'm just paying closer attention than before. Or maybe I just haven't spent time like this with her for so long, I forgot what it felt like. But my heart beats so fast when she does, and this stupid smile spreads across my face. I feel like a fat dude on a treadmill, and Carly's smile is the thing that takes it from a walk to a jog, and I fall flat on my face every time. And I don't even notice it getting dark, only seeing how good Carly looks at dusk, how it exaggerates the pinkness of her lips, the lustre of her hair. I wish I could take myself off this train of thought, and just be her friend, but it happens almost subconsciously, like it's built into me to think of her this way, and I can't change it. And I'm sure she notices my stares, and the way she raises goosebumps on my skin when she touches me. She'd have to. I'm not good at subtlety. I wish she was a little more like me. I wish I could read her, but she's one of those journals with a lock on it. And I won't let myself force the lock. Not again.

Because more than anything, I don't want to lose this. As much as I want her to love me, as much as I want her, I'm not going to risk losing her friendship. And I know I've probably already done that, that we've already gone too far to pretend it's nothing, but I'll swallow everything I feel just to be with her. In any way.

I'm not going to be the one to ruin this.

Spencer calls out us, and we skip downstairs for dinner, and I stop at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, Carly going to help Spencer in the kitchen. And I smile, because I've seen it a million times before, and for some reason it's comforting. It makes me feel more at home than my home ever did. I brush away those pessimistic Puckett clouds that are still hovering at the edges of my brain, and move forward, grinning. This is my home.

I rub my stomach, feeling it rumble under my fingertips. Spencer turns to me, grinning, and tries to flip a spatula. He fails. He picks it up, inspecting it carefully before gingerly tossing it in the sink. "Samma-lamma-ding-dong! Time for food!"

I roll my eyes, Carly nodding with a smile on her face behind him. I'll let it go. Just this once. 'Cause he's family.

**A/N: Sooo, I thought I'd try my hand at, oh, I don't know, writing some light-hearted interaction that doesn't inevitably lead to smut (as per ALL my other stories). How'd I do? Banter-ific?**

**Oh, and that quote isn't real. Nobody says that. Obviously. I made it up, but you can use it if you want to confuse people. Or if you just want to say aphrodisiac. Heh, afro.**

**And I thought I'd try to write Sam as how she would be, if things weren't so epically fucked up.**

**Please review! Experimentation is fun, but you don't know how good you are until someone tells you! Or how bad _**

**Go oooon, that button is so close. Just click... go on... there you go! Good reader, good!**


	15. Chapter 15: Just Tonight

**Disclaimer: I lay no claim upon iCarly.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had some smut already written that I couldn't use the first time, so I thought, 'Oh! I'll use it here!'**

**This isn't it. Due to stupidity and, to some small degree, an easily distracted- SHINY!**

**Anyway. It's gone. You'll never see it. Which is a shame, it was good. And... I probably shouldn't have mentioned it then. But as consolation, it didn't really fit. It was too angry, too bitter, and too OOC for this. I realise Sam is OOC anyway, in fact everyone's OOC, but it was OOC for her in this, consumed by love as she is.**

'**twas hot though. I'll try to be less stupid in future. Wouldn't hold your breath tho- SHINY!**

It's night-time again, and I was feeling just fine until the lights went off. And I was left alone, as Spencer and Carly said their goodnights. Now my brain won't stop ticking, because it's starting to sink in... what I did with... _to_ Carly last night. It keeps replaying in my head, these snapshots that make my stomach roll inside me and make me feel weird, make my chest all tight and hurt-y.

I have to talk to her. Considering how the last 'talk' went, you'd think I'd be more reluctant... or more enthusiastic... but today... today showed me that she cared, as much as she ever did. And I let my mind dwell, finally, on her lingering glances, her little touches here and there. Normally they wouldn't mean anything, but she noticed them too, she was aware of what she was doing, and that took them to a whole new level. A level that scared me.

I know, I _know_ that she loves me as a friend. And I'm not going to... yes, I am going to push that. Because I have to know. I'm not going to ask her to love me in that way, I'm not going to force her to do anything. I just... I just have to know what she's thinking. I want to help her. I'm her friend. And whether it's to help her realise she might have feelings for me, or to help her get over those feelings, as much as it might hurt me, I have to help her.

I stand wearily, and wonder why I can't ever seem to do this in the daylight... talk to her honestly about us. But it's easier in the dark, I can hide there. There's something about night time that kills me. Makes me so goddamn lonely and pathetic, even though I know I'm not...exactly. I go up the stairs slowly, making sure not to stub my toe on the way up. I fail, of course. It's kind of funny, the way I can take any amount of physical pain, no problem, but all that inner shit... that's not even really pain, just tears me up. I don't know. Maybe it's because I know why I'm hurting outside, I can do something about it... but inside... everything's all mixed up, and I don't know why it hurts so much. It's a kind of pain I can't fight, and it makes me feel so weak, because there's nothing I can do to make it stop.

I stop outside her door, splaying my hands on either side of the frame and resting my forehead on the hard wood. I sigh. What am I doing? But I have to know what last night meant... was it a mistake or... I have to know. The door opens and I jump, jerking my head back.

"I thought you were there." Says Carly in a quiet voice, her hair messy from sleep. Even so, she's still beautiful, still so... Carly. My words dry up in mouth, and there's nothing I can say. Not when she's standing there, watching me. As if by impulse my body jerks forward, and I kiss her, pushing her back further into the room. She gasps against my lips, taking a sharp breath before responding, her hands moving to my waist, pulling me to her, but I break away, moving away from her.

"I... I'm sorry." I'm cursing internally. I broke the one promise I made to myself, to never ever ever _ever_ touch her without her permission.

Carly licks her lips, closing her door softly. "It's okay."

I pace back and forth, agitated. "No... no it's not. It's not okay. What's going on Carly? What- I... what was last night?"

Carly crosses to her bed and sits, sighing. She tugs down her nightshirt, one of Spencer's old Penny tees, and I can't help but notice how it barely covers her thighs. I can see her panties... a pair of purple briefs, and I turn away from her. I'm not going to lose control again. I'm _not_.

"Sam... I don't want to talk about it. Please?"

I let my head drop forward, exhaling heavily. "I- I know. But I can't... I can't keep doing this." I turn to her. "It's... I can't stop thinking... thinking about every little thing you do and it's driving me crazy!"

Carly chews her lip, plucking at the bedspread, and I sit down heavily next to her, and she glances at me uneasily. "I want you. Isn't that enough?" I can hear the lie in her voice. She knows it isn't enough, knows I wouldn't say these things if they weren't eating me up.

"Want me as what Carls?" I say softly, moving my hand to cover hers.

"Why did you do this Sam? Why did you have to make me feel this way?" Her tone makes me look up, startled.

"Carly-" Her lips press against mine hard, and she's pushing me back, pushing me down onto the bed, and I knew it was a bad idea to sit here. She's kissing me so forcefully, like she's trying to pull something from me, like she's trying to lose herself, and I pull back, breathless. "Carly-" She cuts me off again, her hand moving under my shirt to cup my breast, and I moan despite myself. "C-carly..." Her lips move to my neck, her teeth grazing my pulse point, and I swallow thickly, my hands gripping her shoulders weakly. Her thumb flicks over my nipple and I jerk up against her, feeling her hot breath gasp against the wet skin of my throat. My hands tighten, and it takes all I have to pull her off me. "Carly... please... we have to talk about this!"

Her eyes are rimmed with red but dry, and she looks at me desperately. "I don't wanna talk... I just wanna-"

"-Lose yourself." I finish for her, my eyes scanning her face worriedly.

She sighs. "Yes. Please..."

I press my lips together tightly. "Why are you doing this?" I push her away and sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" I put my hands to my temple, pressing lightly. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to say this. "Last night was a mistake. You know that."

Carly's silent behind me, and I feel my heart sink. "No... it wasn't." Her voice is soft, and I almost miss it. "I wanted it. I wanted... _want_... you."

I grind my teeth together, twisting my fingers painfully in my hair. "Then why... why did you cry?"

She scoots next to me, running a hand along my arm and pulling it from my hair, putting her hand in my own. I look over at her, and she's staring straight ahead, her eyes focused on something. "I'm not supposed to feel this way. This isn't supposed to happen to me." She turns to me, and her eyes are still focused on something far away. "I had a plan. F-for my life. It's not- I'm not supposed to like girls. I'm supposed to graduate high school, go to college, fall in love with a sweet guy with a good job, get married and have kids."

I feel my gut drop, and I squeeze her hand tight, feeling like I'm squeezing my own throat instead. She looks at me incredulously. "I wanted that. For so long I wanted that. And my brain keeps telling me it's what I want, what I should want." I reach up and brush a tear from her face and she looks surprised, not even aware she's crying. "I shouldn't want you... but I do. I- I can't think about it. I don't _wanna_ think about it. 'Cause when I do it..." A little smile crosses her face. "When I kiss you... it feels so right. But... but when I think about it... it's wrong. It's not... I don't want to think."

I bring her face to me and kiss her gently, tasting the salt on her lips. It's not what I wanted to hear, but it's more than I _ever_ expected. And it gives me hope, sweet, fragile hope. She breaks away from me shakily, speaking against my lips. "Please... please Sam, I don't want to think..." Carly takes my hand, moving it along her thigh, and I kiss her again, harder. She pulls me back onto the bed, never letting our lips part, and I move my hand over the front of her panties, rubbing lightly. She pushes her hips into me, straddling my thigh, and I follow her as she gasps, capturing her lips again. Her hands push up over my ribs, finding my breasts roughly, and I grunt, feeling a tug between my legs. The material of her panties grows damp against my pushing fingers, and I flip her, reversing our positions so I'm on top of her. I kiss her neck sloppily, my breath uneven, and she moans, the sound vibrating against my lips. And it's different from last night, there's this urgency, this desperate need, like we're two forces colliding irresistibly.

I hook my thumbs in her panties, dragging them down, and she lifts her hips, helping me. I toss them aside and she pulls me to her, her lips hot on mine, and she moans into my mouth as I let my hand trail down her stomach, resting on her core. "Unh... Sam," Carly's voice is pleading, and I can feel her, wet against my hand. I shudder, feeling that urgency, that need to touch her well inside me. And it hurts... it bends something to breaking in me that it's like this again. Because I know what's going to happen tomorrow, and I know it's going to hurt, but I can't seem to stop myself. I've always had poor impulse control. But I'll give her whatever she wants, and what she wants is me. Even if it kills me, I'll give her what she wants, because I want it too. Even if it kills me. And I feel myself crumbling, whatever walls I'd managed to build up collapsing. She makes me defenceless, and I have to deaden it, I can't feel this vulnerable, can't feel this raw.

I thrust my fingers into her, overeager, and she stiffens, crying out, her back arching off the bed. I pull my fingers out quickly, feeling her wetness coating them. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?" I scan her face.

She smiles weakly, her voice uneven. "No... it- it felt good."

I give her a quick kiss, trying to ignore my thudding heart. She makes me feel like a little kid. Not that a little kid would be doing something like this... well, I would hope not. She makes me feel clumsy, and nervous, and I want more than anything to please her. As if making her come will make her love me.

I move my fingers more cautiously this time, sliding into her slickly, and she moans, pushing up against me. And I'm pretty sure my heart's sprung a leak, 'cause I can feel this hot surge spread through my chest, filling the cavity and searing my lungs. I curl my fingers inside her, stroking her tight walls, and she moans again, her breath hitching. I feel a shiver run through me. It's like everything she does makes me love her more. Even when it hurts. I'm like a fucking kicked dog, always running back to her, wagging my tail and wondering what I've done wrong... what I've done to deserve this. And I'm surprised at the bitter turn my mind has taken, my hand rocking hard, thrusting my fingers in and out of her. But at the same time, I'm not surprised. This isn't fair, that she gets what she wants (even though she doesn't want it), and all I get is this... this fucked up version that hurts more than nothing. I get hurt because she's fucking conflicted? I'm her best friend, and I've been her best friend, even when I couldn't stand being so close to her because it was torture, and she treats me like this? She has to think about it?

I nip the skin of her neck, Carly jerking against me, her hips pushing against my hand and I growl, nipping her throat again. "Unh, Sam?" She moans, her voice breathy, and she whimpers as I bite her collarbone, smoothing my tongue over the imprint of my teeth.

My anger melts somewhat. It's not fair on her either. It's fucked up for both of us, I know. It's not fair her best friend likes girl, or, more specifically, _her_. It's not fair that her plans never even mentioned involving me, y'know, her _best friend_. It's not fair that basically my whole life has been shit except for her, and that's slowly transforming to shit as it is. But I can't stay mad at her. Pissed, yes, but mad... proper furious... no. Certainly not while I'm fucking her. And that's what it's turned into, this hard, fast rhythm that pushes these uncontrollable sounds from her, her hands gripping me so tight as to bruise. And these harsh, guttural breaths are escaping me, and I realise I'm grinding on her thigh, that hot burn of anger mixed up with pleasure. I can feel her thigh, trembling against me as I thrust, and give a low moan, feeling that pleasure build. Carly's breath shudders out, and she says my name in a soft voice, her hips jerking. I feel her start to tighten around my fingers, her eyes shutting tight as she takes in a gasped breath. And then she's clenching around me, a strangled moan escaping her, bucking up against me as she comes. I swear softly, kissing her neck, my strokes slowing as she comes down from it. And then it's my turn to tremble and shudder, a soft orgasm running through me. It's weak, but it's there, brought about mostly by her presence. She turns me on so much, even when she's pissing me off. I gasp against her skin, dampening the hot flesh as I fight for breath, because it's been so long since I felt any sort of physical pleasure... especially associated with... with that, and it's no surprise I came so easily. The slightest bit of friction and I was gone.

Carly pulled herself up, scooting off the bed, and I swallowed, closing my mouth, already missing her smell, her taste. I licked my lips, rolling onto my back. "Do- do you want me to go?" I say in a dull voice, wiping my fingers on my boxers. She looks surprised. And hurt.

"No. I want you to stay." Carly steps into her underwear, pulling them up.

I fight a smile, feeling the last of my anger dissolve. "Are you sure?"

She jumps back onto the bed, grinning. "Yep."

I raise my eyebrows, shifting as she pulls the covers back. "But what about tomorrow."

Her smile falters. "I don't wanna think about tomorrow. Can't we just have tonight?"

And I know that if I had any self-respect, any sense of worth, I wouldn't take this. Or maybe I would, I don't know. But I am taking this, because I don't have those things, but I do love her. To the point of degradation. Of course I want her, and I want to want her, because it's not fair to want someone but not want to want them, you either want them or you don't, and I want for her to want to want me.

I'm getting confused.

I want her, she want me, entirely and without doubt. I Tarzan, she Jane. I want to make her happy, and I know I can, but I can't make her let go of her dreams. I can only show her why she should, that maybe those dreams aren't so good after all. I can only hope that's enough. Because having this... lying here with my arms wrapped around her, Carly pressed up against me, her face snuggled into me and the smell of her hair filling my lungs... it makes it so much harder to give up. To give up on her, which I hope it never comes to. It'll destroy me. She's honestly the only person I've ever cared about. More than myself even.

She has a point though. I know it's not going to be easy, and I know I can lose her, though I won't let my mind consider that as a real possibility, because I can't even deal with the _thought_ let alone the reality. She's right though. I know what's coming, so I should savour tonight. Because without that pall over it, it's pretty damn sweet. I press my lips against her forehead and she smiles, her hands rubbing in little circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around her tighter, possessively. Because tonight... it's pretty sweet.

**A/N: I want you to review. I want you to want to review. I want you to want wanting to review. I want to want wanting you to want to want to review. I want to confuse you so much, you'll just review, just to stop the text screaming at you with it's circular repetitive logic.**

**In fact, I might review. I just re-read that, and it hurt my brain. And not in the good, pencil up the nose hurting brain. The other way. **

**Oh, and brain freezes... how about them? You're wincing and pinching the bridge of your nose just thinking about it, aren't you?**

**You should review.**

**Or I'll mention chalkboards. And fingernails dragging down them, rasping along, squeaking and raising goosebumps along your spine.**

**Oh wait. I did just mention it. Sorry.**


	16. Chapter 16: Pure Morning

**Disclaimer: iCarly is not owned by me, or any of my subsidiaries.**

It's funny really. People always think I'm the selfish one, the one that doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself. And fair enough, because it's true. But it's not that way with her, not with Carly. She's more to me than I am to myself, and I'm all I have. Everyone in my life has hurt me... my dad, who ran off when he was still my hero, my mom, who blamed me for it. Even Melanie, who said that although she loved me, she didn't like me. I don't put myself first, I put _her_ first, Carly, even though she's probably hurt me more than anyone else. And I don't think she realises, not fully, she thinks I treat her like everyone else, just a little better. I guess it's partly my fault, that I keep everything inside, whereas Carly's an open book. So she's justified in thinking that maybe I don't care as much as I do – and even thinking this, even starting to believe this is my fault, even just trying to rationalise this situation and make it okay – speaks volumes. The irony is, I'm not being the selfish one here, I'm the one giving everything I have, baring my beating, bloody heart to her and waiting, aching.

It's Carly who's selfish, and she's the last person you'd expect it from. But she is. She just hides it better, under a veneer of nice and sweet and kind. We're more alike than people realise, than even I realise. There's something in me that instinctively clicks with her, finds something in her it seeks. The difference is: she makes me not myself, makes me into what I could be. She makes me care. She takes away every defence I have, everything I've spent my life building up to protect me, to stop me getting hurt, and nullifies it so effortlessly. With a look, a smile... a touch.

I don't know if it's better or worse that she doesn't know the true extent of my feelings. If she knew... and _still_ rejected me... it would destroy me. But she doesn't know how much she's hurting me now. She can't – she wouldn't.

I have to believe that. It's the only thing that keeps me sane – that she doesn't realise how consumed by her I am.

I wake up slowly, feeling hot and heavy, my brain sluggish, like it's swimming through a pool of maple syrup. I feel myself start to salivate at the thought. Maybe I should talk to Spencer... he did do that giant coffee cup.

I groan. I don't want to wake up. I lift my hand, intending to rub my eyes, and my fingers trail over smooth skin, surprising me. Carly. She's still here. I freeze, barely daring to breathe. I don't want _anything_ to wake her up. I want to stay here for as long as I can, and I know it's pathetic, but I can't help it. It feels so good, and if I squint real hard, it almost looks like what I've always wanted.

Laying here... it's perfect. It's just her and me, and I can hold her like I always wanted. Like I always dreamed. And even now, I'm scared I'll wake up and be alone again. She stirs in her sleep, and my grip tightens possessively. I don't want her to move away. I just want to lay here, warm and snug, smelling her scent, seeing her sun-lit form, feeling her warm skin. This is the pinnacle of my existence, this moment, as mundane and ordinary as it seems, it's all I've ever wanted... just to be with her. And even though I can feel my bladder screaming at me, I'm not going to move.

Carly stirs slightly, taking a deep breath and shifting, and I lift my arm reluctantly so she can move. Her brow furrows, and she tosses her head, rolling to face me, and she looks so beautiful with the sunlight painting her face. She moves closer to me, snuggling her head down into the pillow, her breath exhaling against my chin. I let my hand rest on her again, moving it slowly so as not to wake her. It fails. Carly makes a soft sound, her eyelids flickering. I can't stop myself from smiling, because she looks just like a little kid who doesn't want to get out of bed yet. Her eyes open finally, and they immediately focus on my face. A small smile turns the corners of her lips. "Hi."

I laugh quietly. "Hi."

Her eyes flick from my eyes to my lips, and she raises her head slightly, moving to capture them in a gentle kiss. She pulls back after a moment, but the brief contact was more than enough, and I make a soft sound in appreciation. "So you're okay with this?" I ask, looking into her warm, coffee-hued eyes.

Carly looks away for a moment before looking back. "I-I think so." She smiles softly. "I like this. I like the way I feel right now. With you."

I swallow thickly, my heart pounding in my chest. "What about your dreams?" I don't wanna ask, and as soon as the words are out my mouth I wish I could suck them back in.

She frowns. "They... it was stupid. I'm not a little kid anymore... I don't want what I did back then. I just... it's hard letting go of something you've been aiming for."

I nod sickly, because I know how hard it would be for me to give her up, to let her go. She kisses me again, cradling my face with a warm hand, and I sigh into the kiss, because things are finally going right, and it feels so good to let go of my doubt and dread and just kiss her, finally kiss her without that trepidation holding me back, and I pour all my love, my desire out into it. Carly pulls back breathlessly. "Wow. I didn't know you could do that with your tongue." She gasps, her eyes wide.

I grin. "I can do other things with it too." I grab the front of her shirt and pull her to me, capturing her in another kiss. The smell of bacon wafts into the room, and Carly breaks away from me, putting a little distance between us. She looks confused when I don't move, just laying there, my head propped on an elbow.

"Sam... there's bacon." She states, looking at me in befuddlement.

I nod. "I know."

Her brow furrows. "Then why aren't you... you know, already down there?"

I move myself closer to her. "'Cause you're more important than bacon."

Her eyes widen. "Sam... do you know what you're saying?"

I smile slightly, amused. "I do. Do you?"

Her face turns pensive, and I study her closely. I see a flicker in her dark eyes, and I wonder; is she starting to get it? Is she starting to realise how serious... how real this is for me?

**A/N: Please review. If I get enough, I will sew a rainbow to light the sky, and we shall all ride unicorns to Narnia. Or... I'll write more. Probably that last one, yeah.**

**I like Narnia though.**


	17. Chapter 17: Giving In

**Disclaimer: Own I not iCarly, and I'm running out ways to say that. Obviously.**

"Okay, so I was thinking we could do..." I trailed off, noticing Carly staring at me, her chin propped on a hand. I felt a smile quirk my face, and I sit up in the beanbag. "What? What is it?"

Carly reaches out impulsively, stroking over my lips with a tentative finger. She takes her hand

back, leaning forward. "Your lips. They're nice."

I raise an eyebrow, fighting off the blush I can feel coming. "And you only just noticed?"

She nods dreamily. "Yeah. I did." She frowns suddenly. "What was your idea again?"

I search my mind, shrugging helplessly. "I- I don't remember."

Carly giggles. "This isn't going so well, is it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe if you'd stop touching me!" But I never wanted her to stop touching me. Touching me like this. Looking at me like this. I'd seen her give the same look to the guys she'd dated, the way she'd run her eyes up and down them with a little smile in the corner of her lips. And she was looking at me, _me_, like that now. All her looks, all her little touches, they were driving me crazy. Except the good kind of crazy.

It was weird though, to have her... to have anyone look at me that way. Like... like I was special, like they saw something. Something good, something they wanted. And it's like her eyes were a finger, running along my spine and making me shiver inside. She'd touch me, she'd kiss me, she'd do all the things I'd seen her do with all the boys she went out with. And I figured being her best friend would help me keep her. I knew all their mistakes, I knew what not to do. And I had my heart to listen to. I loved her like they couldn't.

I think I surprised her, but then based on our... what we were before, I can't blame her. I was Sam-in-between then, between being her girlfriend and being her friend, and it was an insane place to be. She'd give me weird little smiles when I'd pull her chair out for her, or get her a drink, or open a door for her. But what can I say, I'm a gentleman. I surprised myself even. It feels right though, to do these things for her, to show her that I care. My words come out just fine, but they never sound how I want, they're too blunt, too simple... too crude.

It's funny. I thought Freddie was pathetic; looking out his peep-hole waiting for Carly to come home, but I find myself doing the same thing, pressing myself up against the door and waiting for my heart to jump when I see her. I should hate myself for being this whiny little puppy dog, but I've got her. I've finally got her, no matter how it makes me act.

Carly leans over further, moving to hover over me. And there's that look again, that look that tickles my spine so exquisitely. "I think it's going great." I murmur, looking up at her, licking my suddenly dry lips. She mimics the action, and then she's pressing her lips against mine, and they meld together so perfectly. I'm aware of her pushing me back in the beanbag, the notebook of ideas slipping from my limp fingers, but it's far away, because all of me is in my lips, in my fingertips, between my legs. If there's one thing I learned about Carly and her boyfriends, it's that she's very affectionate. More than you'd think for such a squeaky clean girl. At first she was terrified of anyone seeing us, anyone finding out, but she's been getting more and more lax, taking more risks... like kissing me here, when Spencer is downstairs, working on a sculpture. She's been touching me more and more, and I'm surprised to find that I'm the one shrinking away, reluctant for her to touch me... there. It's not so surprising I guess, considering what... what happened. I tiptoe around it; what happened, like it's some sheet-covered thing I have to edge around. My mind shies away from it automatically.

It's her. She makes me strong. If she wasn't... if I didn't have her, I wouldn't have anyone, and those thoughts, those ones that say I deserved it, that it was my fault... I'd believe them. I'd break. I know because I came so close. I can't comprehend it, this... thing that happened to me, I can't even begin to understand. I can feel my mind just... just tremble at it, so I push it away and let my subconscious deal with it. I whitewash over it as much as I can, and if she wasn't here, I'd let it in, I'd let it break me. She's the only reason I'm getting better because she's the only reason I have _to_ get better. Maybe it's not the healthiest way to deal with it, but it's the only way I have. I'm not going back to therapy. All they do is focus on what they think are your problems, what's easiest for them to understand. They don't listen. They tell me things I already know, try to fit me into their little moulds, their little cookie-cutters.

When Carly touches me, when she moves her hand to rub over me, between my legs... it feels good. It feels really good, but I feel myself stiffen, and I can't relax. I don't know what I'm waiting for, what my body is expecting, but Carly notices and lets her hand move up, drifting back to my waist, and I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. I can't help it. It's not her, I trust her, and I want it, but I can't help the way my body acts. She never asks, never pressures me about it, never acts offended, which I know I sure as hell would. She just pretends it doesn't happen, moves her hand away and keeps going. I wish it didn't happen though. It's hard to whitewash over something when you're reminded of it by your traitorous body.

I'm sick of it, I'm sick of my body acting this way. I take Carly's wrist gently, pulling it from my waist, and move her hand back to where it was, pressing over the front of my pants, and she pulls back, my breath escaping in nervous little puffs against her face. I can feel the adrenaline racing through my veins, making my heart pound so hard in my chest, my muscles tensed so hard they hurt, and I try to relax, try to shut my body up. "Sam..." Carly says in a soft voice, a cautious voice, "We don't have to."

I nod shakily. "I know. But I want to. I want you to."

She's still looking at me doubtfully, but she nods, starting to rub slowly over me. I let out a shuddery breath, and keep telling myself that it's Carly, that she won't hurt me. I know it in my head, but my body's stubborn, still in fight-or-flight, and everything seems bright and overexposed to my eyes, so I close them, trying to focus. And I start to relax, Carly's slow pace and soft kisses to my face and neck placating me, calming me. Her hand moves to unbutton my pants, and I feel my body stiffen almost imperceptibly; but Carly notices, placing another gentle kiss on my neck. "Do you want to stop?"

I take a long unsteady breath, and it's easier than before, because even through my body's fear, I could still feel the pleasure, still feel my arousal. I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat, my mouth dry, and my tongue feels huge and thick. "No." I manage to whisper, and Carly looks at me with wide eyes, studying me, like she doesn't know what to do. "Don't stop."

I fight to keep my breath even as she tugs down the zip of my jeans, and I lift myself up to help her tug them down, just a little, just enough for me to spread my legs. She slips her fingers just inside the waistband of my boy-shorts, just enough to brush me, and it makes me tremble. "Are you okay?"

I laugh breathlessly, because my teeth are almost chattering, the adrenaline flowing so thick through me. It's like I've drank a dozen coffees at once, I'm so jittery, and it's making me shiver and jerk at her touch. But I want this. I'm sick of being scared. "I'm okay." I say in a long breath, trying to reassure her, because I know she's as unsure as I am about this, can see how terrified I am, how my body's shuddering out of my control. "I'm okay." I repeat, leaning up to kiss her. I gasp as she moves her hand down further, her fingers finding me, and she traces her lips along my jaw, relaxing me. It's okay to give in, to surrender, and I realise that's what I was scared of. That's why I was scared so long. Giving myself over... losing control. Because if I gave myself to her... to anyone, then maybe I gave myself to him, to Steve, without even realising it, maybe it made what happened okay. Maybe it wasn't rape.

I see now. I see why I was scared, because I didn't know, not exactly, I just knew it made me freeze, made me tense. I didn't know I was still blaming myself. But it's _not my fault_. I start to relax, to give in to Carly's touches, to surrender myself to her. And it's okay. I can do this. I trust her. I let myself go. And Carly feels me relax, feels me start to respond to her, start to push against her, and she moves her fingers into me slowly, moving inside me, and I arch against her, my breath catching. It feels good, so, so good. And it's been so long since I connected anything good with that, but it's her, it's her inside me, and I can't help but moan, because it doubles the pleasure I feel. It's her. Her lips trailing over my skin, her body pressed up along me, her fingers stroking the very core of me. And it's not long before I feel myself start to tense, my breath coming in short gasps, that tentative, quivering pleasure rising in me, and I let it go, gripping onto her and moaning her name, my muscles shuddering tight, my nerves on fire. She stays with me, rides it out with me, and holds me when I come down, her breath uneven, her lips covering every exposed part of me, kissing me over and over again. It's then that I start to think, start to hope, that maybe she could love me. Maybe she could love me too.

**A/N: Let me just say right now, I'm sorry. This is the last happy thing for a while, and it's probably making what is to come that much worse. So... enjoy it, and feel that sense of foreboding loom over you.**

**And review, please review. Even if it's just to beg me for happiness, or for conflict.**

**I just like to hear you beg ^_^**


	18. Chapter 18: Parasite

**Disclaimer: iCarly is not my property. This I swear.**

"Get out."

I wake to Spencer tossing a backpack on my stomach, winding me. I grunt, rubbing my eyes blearily and sitting up, touching my now-sore stomach with sleep heavy fingers. The pack slides off me onto the ground, and I recognise a few of my shirts spilling out. I look up at Spencer in confusion.

"Spence... what's-" I stop, because the look on his face is making my blood freeze. It's a look of anger, and hurt, and disgust. And what hurts most; a look of betrayal.

"Get. Out." His voice is low and hoarse, like it hurts him just to speak.

"Spence..." My voice makes him flinch, and I draw my hands to me like I've hit him, because that's what it felt like.

"You slept with her Sam." My eyes widen as I begin to understand, Spencer's voice growing louder until he's practically yelling at me. "You _fucked_ my little sister! You... you-" Spencer turns away, his voice breaking, his hands running through his hair helplessly.

All I can do is gape at him, open and close my mouth like a goldfish, suffocating in the air. It feels like I've swallowed a dozen sponges, and they're soaking up all the moisture in my abdomen, making me feel swollen and thick. I... I... fuck. Fuck. I don't... I d-don't know what to do, what to say. What can I say? I... I c-can't look at him. I swallow hard and try to pull myself together. He deserves the truth. He deserves much more than I can give him. "S-spence... I-" I lick my lips, trying to find some saliva to moisten my words, to make them come easier. "You have to understand, please." I'm begging him, and I can feel the edge in my voice, the trace of disintegration that can shred me apart. Spencer's shoulders slump and he turns to face me, hugging his arms to him as if he's trying to keep himself together. He's the only person besides Carly that feels like family, and to have him look at me like his, with the confusion and hurt of a child... it makes me wish I was back with Steve, getting what I deserved.

He's waiting, eyes downcast, and I know he wants me to prove him wrong in some indisputable way, to tell him it's a lie. I can't do that. I can't lie about Carly. I can't betray her in that way, even if it's to save Spencer's feelings. And I know I should be asking, should be on the defensive, should be wondering how the fuck he found out, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter now, because it's happened, and there are a million ways he could have found out, but that doesn't change the situation.

"I love her." I say softly, not daring to look at him. I can feel it anyway, the emotion pouring off him in waves. I don't have to look. "I love her so much Spence, I-"

"Stop. Please." Spencer cuts me off, and he sounds so tired, so defeated. He's not angry. I know that, I know he's too good a person to sustain that, that he had to build himself up to anger in the first place. I would've preferred anger, would've preferred yelling. I can deal with that. I can't deal with this quiet hurt, this disappointment... it's constricting my chest tighter and tighter with every breath I take. He rakes a hand through his hair, his movements tight and jerky, like he's not sure what to do. "I- I can't do this. I can't deal with this. I... I can't." He's muttering, talking more to himself, and he sounds so helpless, so utterly perplexed. He doesn't know what to do. And I don't either. He looks at me suddenly, and it's like a hook being shoved up under my ribcage as his face changes, hardening. He's never closed himself off to me, he's never treated me like everyone else does. Like I'm not to be trusted.

The worst part is; I can't even bring myself to feel bad about it. I feel bad about hurting him, yes, about... betraying him. But I can't ever bring myself to regret anything I've done with Carly. I wouldn't take any of it back, even the stuff that still hurts to think about.

Spencer folds his arms tight around him, his back hunched forward, like he's trying to hold something in. I know that feeling, I just hoped I'd never be the cause of it. When you feel like the only thing keeping you together are your two hands, gripping onto your flesh because you're sure if you let go, something vital and ugly and raw will come spilling out, and you'll have to see it, have to acknowledge this broken, putrid part of you. "She's..." Spencer clears his throat, and his voice is a little calmer, but I can hear the tremor in it, hear the effort he's making to sound anything like normal. "She's my little sister." He says it like it's everything, because it is. Carly's his little sister, and while he might act cool, and easy-going, I know he cares _so much_ about her. It makes me jealous. I'd give anything for someone to care that much about me. Carly's the only one that comes close, and I know if it wasn't for Spencer she wouldn't be the same person. Maybe I wouldn't love her so much then. He's the person I love most after Carly, because the qualities I love in her are in him too, just wrapped in a different package.

"I... I know." I say quietly, looking down, my own hands wrapped around me, mimicking him. I can't help but wonder where Carly is, but of course he wouldn't say anything in front of her. He'd never blame her anyway. He's right not to blame her. It _is_ my fault. There's nothing I can say, no magic words that can make him feel better. And it seems like no matter what I do, I'm always hurting someone, and the problem is, it's usually someone I care about. And those people are so few as it is. Everytime I hug someone, I'm stabbing them in the back, and I don't whether it's worse that it's unintentional, that I'm only trying to do what my head says is right. Is it better to be bad, and do bad things, knowing that they're wrong? Or is it better to think all the bad things you do are good, and that you are good, and believe that you're right? That you're righteous. Either way, the result is the same; people get hurt, all that changes is how good you feel about it.

It's not fair, but then, few things are. It's casuistry of the highest form; thinking that just because you _try_, you try so hard to be good, to do good, that you deserve something. That you deserve fairness. It's facile, but it's the only thing that keeps whining through my head. It's not fair. It's not fair that I've tried to be happy, that I've tried to be good, but all it's done is hurt someone else. Pursuing my own happiness shouldn't be at the cost of someone else's.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Spencer rubbing his forehead with a heavy hand, pushing back imaginary hair, because he doesn't know what else to do. And I can see, I can practically hear the cogs ticking away in his head, trying to make it better, trying to make it so he doesn't mind so much, so that he's not upset with me anymore. But he can't do it. And I can't blame him. "Sam... I can't..." He sighs heavily, looking apologetic, but I can see a glint in his eye that's he's trying so hard to push away, to bury with the goodness in him. "I can't have you here... right now. I... You need to go. I'm sorry. I... just can't."

I've heard that the best parents never yell at you. Never get angry. They just look at you like you're worth something and say that they're disappointed. That they expected something more from you, they say with a perplexed expression on their face, like they just can't figure out why. Spencer is one of those parents. He's trying so hard to not hurt me, to forgive me, but he can't. He can't hide his disappointment, and he can't push his feelings away. And somehow, that only makes me feel worse; that he's acting like he shouldn't be feeling this way, that he should just get over it, because it's no big deal. But he can't. He cares too much. And I've taken the one thing from Carly that he strived so hard to maintain – her innocence, her childhood. He can never look at her the same, because he knows now, knows this big, dark thing he can't keep from picturing, not because he wants to, but because it's implanted itself in his head, like a parasitic worm just eating away, pulsing quick flashes of his nightmare to him. His nightmare that's come true. And it's so much worse that it's me, that I'm the cause of it. That the one person he thought he could trust to protect her, to keep her safe, to keep Carly away from all the creepy guys and people who might hurt her, that it's me who ended up failing him. Failing her.

I wish he would've yelled. I wish he could've hit me. I wish he could've done anything that justified my getting angry and storming out. It would've been better for both of us. Anger isn't pleasant, but it's hot and keeps you going, like bitter coffee. It keeps you from accepting, from feeling the hurt. It keeps you from thinking. All Spencer has done is think; the anger was just a shot of espresso for him, strong but gone in an instant, and now his mind is whirling, blaming himself for not seeing it sooner, trying to find a way to be okay with this. Trying to find a way to understand.

I can't watch him anymore, can't take this gnawing pain inside me. I shove the shirts back into the pack, zipping it hastily and shouldering it. I can't help but look back when I leave, and Spence looks sad, his face long and sober, but I can see something like relief on it. It's a twinge that makes my breath catch. He's just another person that's glad to see the back of me. They all are in the end.

**A/N: And so we head to bad places. I don't have a lot to say really, only that updates may take a while. Nonetheless, this fic shan't be abandoned, so don't worry about that. It's just that writing sad stuff... well, I'm more reluctant to do it. But it's just the way the story goes. Suffice to say, things are going to go from bad to worse.**

**Another A/N: I feel that Spencer's OOC. I can't make him angry, no matter what I do, I can only make him sad. I feel sort of bad about that, but it's the only way I could see it going. I tried to keep him at least somewhat in character.**

**Please review and let me know what you thought. Your reviews mean so very much. More than you know.**


	19. Chapter 19: Swirling

**Disclaimer: iCarly... I shall have you one day. Or make a parody porno with a name like 'inCarly' or something. I totally just thought of that now!**

**I'll stop now.**

It took me a while to realise the sun was shining. It might sound stupid, but it felt like everything was muted, was dark. The sun seemed like an insult. A reminder that I didn't matter, that I was nothing. That all this sadness, this... heartache I was feeling... the world didn't even notice, didn't even care. I was nothing. I _am _nothing. Surprisingly, it didn't make me feel better, to know that my problems were insignificant compared to, well, everything else. It just made me feel worse, because I can't escape them, can't outrun them, and I've always been able to run away from my problems. But they're catching up, and I'm getting so tired.

I trudge along the pavement, oblivious to the people that push past me, wrapped up in their own concerns. I don't know where I'm going, I'm moving just to move, just to keep going. I've been running my whole life, from my mom, from the police, even from Carly – although I'd let her catch up now and then, because she was a problem Iwanted. That night... that night when I'd let my fist glide through that prop window... it was the first time I stumbled, the first time I looked back and saw how close everything was getting. And then, with Steve... I tripped, I fell and they all set upon me, hungry for blood... and I let them. It almost felt good, to be ripped apart so spectacularly. But it made me do those things to Carly, made me drag her down with me, just because I didn't want to be alone, just because I couldn't fight my own selfishness.

I stopped running then. I started fighting. I dealt with my mom, started to come to terms with what happened, and, most of all... I dealt with Carly, dealt with my feelings... and with hers. I stopped running from her, and waited, waited until she took my hand in her own and faced me. Because she was running too. I thought I was done, thought I'd never have to run again. I... I thought I was safe. But you're never safe. You can never stop running.

I adjust the backpack wearily. I'm out of shape. I'm not outrunning my feelings, I'm just limping ahead of them. I'm feeling it all too much. I don't like feeling this, feeling... worthless, no matter how justified it is. It's a pit that's hard to climb out of, and I spent most of life already trying to escape it. I've been kicked back in, and I just don't have the strength to deny it anymore.

It takes me a while to realise that I've stopped walking, just swaying in place out the front of the Groovy Smoothie. My eyebrows furrow... I _am_ thirsty, I realise. My body's looking out for itself, even if my brain isn't. I go inside, and it's too bright, but then again, everything is. I dig around in my pockets and get a Blueberry Blitz with my last five bucks. I never was good at saving money. I always figured if I needed something bad enough, I'd find a way to get it. But I just don't have the motivation to anymore.

I sit in a corner, trying to curl in on myself, trying to be invisible, just sipping automatically at the smoothie I don't even want anymore, just because it gives me something to do. I pull out my phone listlessly. I should ring her. I should call Carly. But what do I say? That Spencer found out about us fucking and kicked me out? How do you say something like that? What can she do? Talk to Spencer... convince him to let me come back? Maybe. I set my phone down. I just... I just don't feel like dealing with that at the moment. The questions... the drama... I just want to sit here a little longer in the relative quiet. I just want to pretend it didn't happen... just for a little while.

I remember when I used to come here with Carly and Freddie, nearly every day actually. Carly would usually buy my smoothie, since I was always broke. Well, not always, but I liked her doing that for me. The last time I was here with her was when things started to change... for the better. When I started to think... started to hope that maybe she felt something for me. I think... no, I know, that it was easily the best day of my life. And remembering that... juxtaposed with the way I'm feeling now... it makes the smoothie turn sour in my mouth. I'm forcing myself to drink it, even though I'm starting to feel sick, and it's funny how it's so good until you don't want it anymore. How you start to notice the texture rasps your mouth, how it's sickly sweet and heavy on your tongue. How it makes your mouth sticky and your hands clammy. Blueberry Blitz. Carly's favourite is Strawberry Splat. One day, when I was bored, I mixed the two together. Turns out it's delicious. It made me feel better than I should have... I saw it as metaphor. It didn't help when Carly proudly proclaimed it 'our' drink, and I shoved the straw into my mouth furiously and tried to pass off my blush as brainfreeze.

I swirl the dregs of the smoothie around, studying the container glumly. That's the problem with familiar places; there's memories everywhere. And so many of them are here. With Carly. I rest my head on the table, trying to fixate on a drop of smoothie that's spilled onto the table. I lose all sense of time... it's easy to do when you have nothing to do, nowhere to go. I think... I think I'm still in shock... it doesn't feel real. I mean, this is Spencer we're talking about. He's never... never spoken to me... anyone like that. He's... he's never been so hurt. I never... I didn't want to hurt him. It's another stupid thing I've done. I never even thought about Spencer when I... when I was with Carly. I mean, obviously, but I didn't... hadn't considered the future, the reality that he would find out someday. I was living in the moment, because I didn't know how long that moment would last... _if_ it would last. I was too wrapped up in her to notice him.

I become aware of someone clearing their throat near me... at me. I swear to god if it's T-Bo trying to sell me something on a stick, I'll shove that stick so far up his...

It's Freddie.

**A/N: A short one I know, but I rambled more than anticipated. Plus I wanted to get something out there, so I hope y'all don't mind. Ha, course ya don't! Pfft.**

**Anyhow, you know what I like? Besides sleeping twelve hours (which actually sorta sucks, 'cause you wake up and you're all, 'what? Wtf? But... but the day! I... where did it go?' And then you're all depressed, so you just go back to sleep.) and punching people in the throat? I like it when my dear reviewers (that's you. No not you, looky-loo! Review-you, that's who.), say that my chapter makes their day. It really makes me... it makes my heart grow three times it's size, which is usually really dangerous, but I mean in a good way (parentheses! I don't usually use this many!)**

**Now, I'm not asking you to _lie_ (although I certainly am thinking it loudly), but if I did make your day, or enhance it in a way not dissimilar to most amphetamines, please to let me know. It makes me all determined. I totally pump my fist and go "Yeah, I'ma write something for _youuuuuu!_", and then I point. And wink. So there's that image to haunt you everytime you review. Did I mention I do that freeze frame thing as well, like at the end of sitcoms sometimes? 'Cause I do. For a ridiculously long time.**

**Usually writing this makes me sad, but this chapter isn't too bad. And look, Freddie's here! Next chapter is going to be... difficult, in many ways.**

**So review. I know I've mentioned this like, _once_ before, but it makes me all enthused. And shit.**


	20. Chapter 20: Shadow

**Disclaimer: Disappoint me again, I don't own it.**

**A/N: At least half this chapter was written while I was listening to 'Pruit Igoe & Prophecies' by The Philip Glass Orchestra, so... you can probably guess when I started listening to it. It's.. it's not a happy piece. But if you want some atmosphere for the chapter, by all means listen to it. It won't cheer you up though. That and 'The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning' by The Smashing Pumpkins. I'm... I'm so sad now.**

"Can I sit?"

I wave my hand at him dismissively. "Go for it Fredward." He nods and sits down, tenting his hands in front of him. He's so goddamn delicate. Carly is too, but I like that about her. With Freddie it's just annoying. I'm sick of tiptoeing around, I just can't do subtlety right now. Freddie's shooting quick glances at me, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, but can't find the words. Fuck. I'm not in the mood for this. "What? What is it?" I snap at him, Freddie flinching at my tone.

"Spencer... he..." Freddie studies me, like he's looking for something, and I can feel his gaze crawling under my skin. I hate it when people look at me like that, because they never find what they're looking for. I always disappoint. "Is it true? That you... that..." He bursts out, and that was what he wanted to say all along. I almost have to laugh. It's about Carly... it's always about Carly with him. I'd work up some real venom for him, but I understand. He's like me in a lot of ways, the difference being; I have a spine. Okay, so maybe I don't hate him completely, but I'm not feeling very generous towards anyone right now. Freddie annoys me at the best of times, and this is far from the best of times.

I'm the one studying him now, absentmindedly toying with my straw, cool drops of Blueberry Blitz staining my fingers, and I can see what he wants the answer to be. It's what everyone wants the answer to be. Even Carly, in the beginning. Nobody ever wants me, they can't see... they can't see how I feel. I'm not who they see. They only ever go skin deep, and I've made sure my skin is armour-plated. "Yeah. It's true."

Freddie leans forward, his eyebrows furrowing. "You... you _slept _with her?"

I smile tightly. "Yeah. I did." I feel like I'm admitting something shameful, but I'm not. I'm proud of it. It's the one thing I've done that's worth something – tricked Carly into loving me. I hate how I'm made to feel that I've done something wrong. It's the only right thing I've ever done.

"W-why Sam? Why would you..." Freddie's voice is uneven, and I can see the hurt look on his face. He thinks I've betrayed him. He can't even begin to think that maybe Carly wanted it too. But I can't blame him for that. It's a fair assumption.

He loves her too. It's one of the reasons I pick on him so much. He's competition... albeit not one I ever took seriously. Plus he's just so much fun to tease. If he didn't react, I wouldn't do it. But I'm not gonna use this against him. Even I have my limits. And I'm not going to cheapen what I did with Carly. Not ever. "Same reason as you Freddie."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, his eyes widening as he understands. He's like an open book. I can read him with a glance, and it makes me feel a little sorry for him. I could break him so easily, and I've gone too far before. "You... you l-love her?"

I sigh and look away. This is a conversation I never imagined myself having, least of all with Freddie. I guess I just assumed that everyone would get it, that everyone would think 'Ohhhh, of course Sam loves Carly. It's so obvious!'. But I've hidden myself too well. "Yeah. I love her." It comes out softer than I intended, and I just can't keep hold of my anger. It's a fuel that I've run out of, and all I'm left with is a hollow feeling, despite the copious amounts of smoothie sloshing around my insides.

Freddie's looking at me like I've grown another head or something. The boy's never... he's never seen me like this. Without those walls up. I hate it. I hate it when people look at me like this, most of all him. I need him to see me as someone strong. I can't... I can't be like him. I've seen what loving Carly has done to him... I... I don't want to be that person. Lovesick.

"Why are you here Fredbag?" I try to inject some feeling into my voice, but it rings empty.

He licks his lips nervously, rummaging in his pockets and pulling out a wad of cash. "Spencer... he... he said to give you this." He pushes the money across the table to me, and I take it dubiously.

"What for?" I count it automatically... it's habit.

"For a room. Sam..." I purse my lips, nodding and stuffing the cash away in a pocket. I try to hide the fact that my heart just dropped into my stomach like a mass of lead. Freddie's looking at me, trying to explain, but he doesn't need to. "He's... he's just really upset. It's Carly, y'know. He just needs some time."

I nod, trying to swallow past this lump in my throat. "How'd he find out?" I ask sweetly.

Freddie shrugs, picking at a thread on his pants. "I... I don't know. He and Carly wouldn't tell me. He just said... said that you and Carly were... were..." He gestures at me, unwilling to say it. I can see it hurts him. "And to give you the cash."

I sigh. "So you're just the errand boy." A muscle under my eye twitches suddenly. "Wait... you said Carly. She was there? She- she knows?"

Freddie looks like he wants to swallow his own tongue, and I can see his eyes darting about for an escape. It's times like this that I would hurt him, but I'm already hurting myself. My hand's circled around my wrist tightly, the knuckles white, and it should be hurting, but I'm all stiff... trying to process. "She... I... Carly was... she was..." Freddie babbles, and all of a sudden I have a very real urge to hurt him. My wristbones start to ache, but I ignore it.

"_Does. She. Know?_" I hiss, and I can feel the muscles in my face twitching out of my control.

Freddie swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing. "Spence- Spencer told her not to call you. He took her phone away. She... she was pretty upset. I... I asked her, y'know, if it was true... but... she didn't answer, she just sort of turned away. I... that's all I know Sam. I'm sorry."

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. My hand slips away from my wrist, the fingers twitching limply as blood rushes back into them.

"Sam..." Freddie's voice is quiet, tentative, and I look up, drawn by the plaintive tone in it. "You... you really love her?"

I smile softly, sadly. "Yeah. I really do."

Freddie takes a deep breath. "You're hurting her Sam."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

"She's... she's been different. At school. You... you wouldn't have known. She's... she's not trying anymore. I asked her about college and... and she just laughed. I... I don't think she even cares about college anymore."

I feel like everything's rushing away from me, like I'm falling away from everything but not moving at all. Because I understand. I understand what he's saying, and he's right. "She..." I can't finish it, but the words are poison, jostling themselves out anyway. "She doesn't care about her dreams." _She's throwing it away. For me._

Freddie nods. "If... if you love her..." He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to. And I know he's saying it out of hurt, partly at least, because he's lost her, and I can't say I wouldn't act similarly. He's trying to manipulate me, and he's not doing a very good job. But despite his clumsy attempt... he's right. Carly's stopped talking about the future. Stopped doing her homework. She's given up her future. For a dead end one. For me.

I stand abruptly, shouldering my pack. "Thanks for the dough Freddo." I pat him on the shoulder, a little harder than is warranted, and leave. He's given me a lot to think about, and none of it's good. Everything I know about myself... everything I know about Carly... it's all coming together, and the picture it makes isn't a pretty one. I'm her shadow.

It's Seattle, so there's a light drizzle as I walk along, staring at my shoes. Heading nowhere... anywhere. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I remember when I was a little kid, I used to run from my shadow, used to fight it, just because it followed me everywhere, and I was sure it was the one that made the monsters at night. That it was stalking me. I was scared of it... this black, intangible thing that nobody paid any attention to. I thought nobody saw them but me... saw these dark caricatures of people stalking along behind them. And I wondered what would happen if they ever caught up, if they ever rose up and consumed me. To have your life sucked away by these shadow selves, a cool smile on their invisible lips, a chill hand across your mouth. I had a lot of nightmares, a lot of therapy. It never really worked.

I realise now that my fears were correct. I'm my own doppelganger. I'm the shadow, and I've won. I've wrapped my arms around Carly, and I'll never let her go. I'm consuming her. And I'm surprised it's taken me this long to realise. I've always been her shadow. I've always dragged her down. And maybe my mother was right after all. Melanie's the good one... maybe I'm _her _shadow. But I've pulled free and latched onto Carly. I was never even meant to exist. Melanie was the one they wanted. I just came along for the ride. And I tore them all apart. Made them all leave. It's my turn to leave though. I never meant to exist.

Sometimes I wish I didn't.

**A/N: Please review. This music is bringing me right the fuck down. Even if it's just to say it did the same to you. Misery shared is... well, it's still misery, but it's begrudgingly satisfying when you're not alone.**


	21. Chapter 21: To Forget

**Disclaimer: iCarly is not, nor has it ever been, nor shall it ever be – mine.**

"_C'mon, what college do you wanna go to?"_

_Carly shifted evasively, shrugging. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."_

_I raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought you would've decided years ago."_

_She smiled softly. "Things are different now. I have... other things to think about y'know?"_

I should've pushed her, should've pressed the point, but I didn't. I knew the answer... Carly isn't the hardest nut to crack. I didn't want to know. I already knew that I... that I destroyed her dreams. I didn't want to realise that I destroyed her future as well. I just wanted to be happy, wanted everything to be okay, and asking questions isn't the way to get that. Ignorance is bliss, after all. I'm selfish at heart... I've proved that all along, and when it comes to Carly... I'm conflicted.

I've always had two paths I can take. One is the thing I _should_ do, the other is the thing I _want_ to do, and Carly is the only time those paths converged. It's hard to know what's right here. It... it _was_ hard to know. But those paths have split again, and I'm stuck at the crossroads, and I just want things to stop. Just for a minute.

I sit in a bus shelter with my knees tucked up under my chin, shivering slightly from my damp clothes. I keep pulling out my phone, keep checking it. I keep waiting. I want to call her, want to hear her voice telling me that everything's gonna be okay, that it's just a dream and she's going to college and dragging me along with her somehow. I want so badly to call her... I can feel my fingers twitching, wanting to press the keys. But she wouldn't answer anyway.

I push my head into my hands, trying to block out the dull light filtering through the clouds. I try to make myself small and hidden, because it's too big out here, and I feel too open. I try and search my mind for any time I ever helped Carly. Ever did something for her that she couldn't have done herself. And maybe it's the weather, maybe it's me, but I just can't think of anything. I've always been the one who needed her, not the other way around. I'm always the one getting her in trouble, and she's always the one bailing me out. I don't... I don't know what she sees in me, I never have. All I've ever done is bring her down.

I scroll through my contacts, dialling. She picks up on the third ring. "Hey Annie, it's Sam."

"Hey! Cousin Sammy! How are ya?"

I smile grimly. There's a question. "Hey, can I stay you with you? Just for a night. I've got cash." I can hear Annie shushing people in the background.

"Sure thing. You remember where I live?" Annie gives me quick directions before hanging up, and I swirl them around in my head, seeing if it's short enough to walk. Annie's like me... a fuck-up. And I mean that in the best possible way. Melanie's the black sheep of our family; she's the only one who hasn't been arrested. I would've stayed with Annie after... after Steve, but for the fact that her parole prevented it. And she wasn't really the motherly type, more the cool cousin who lets you eat pot brownies and drive her car. Fun, but irresponsible. I couldn't hurt her if I tried.

I decide on the taxi, feeling a sickly excitement. Not because of Annie, no, but because what seeing her meant. It meant I could get fucked up, could forget for just a little while. And I know, I _know_, that that's not what I should be doing, that it's the last thing I should be doing, but I'm just so fucking tired, so fucking sick of it all. Of hurting people and having to care about it. I just don't want to care. I just want to numb everything, for just a little while. And if that makes me a bad person, then so what, I'm already a bad person. It's a drop in the ocean.

People think I'm so strong. That I don't feel anything. That I'm so narcissistic and overconfident to ever feel their insults. It's what I've tried to be. I've tried to be strong, and most of the time it's worked. Why _should_ I care what people think? I don't. Carly's the only person I've never played those games with, never tried to impress in that way. She's the chink in my armour, the loose thread that's unravelling me. I can't do this. I can't keep feeling this way. I can't keep thinking about her constantly. It's like I'm nothing without her... I can't even think for myself without her.

Annie's apartment complex is rundown, graffiti scrawled everywhere, some of it my own. Annie taught me a lot growing up... how to pick a lock, how to break a bottle just right. She's what I'd be without Carly.

I can hear the music long before I reach her apartment, the bass throbbing through the thin walls. I push open the ajar door, a few people shuffling out of the way. I push past them, the waft of pot smoke and beer reaching my nostrils. It smells like home. Some of these people are Annie's clients... here to get tattoos or lounge around and talk about them, some are just strangers, friends of friends of friends. I find Annie finally, relaxed on a couch, her feet propped up on a coffee table, beer bottle in hand. She gets up when she sees me, grinning broadly. "Sammy! How are ya babe?" She pulls me into a hug, and I can feel the hard curves of the bottle pressing between my shoulder blades. She pulls back, studying me. "I mean it. How are ya kiddo?"

I make a non-committal gesture. I force a smile onto my face. "So are you gonna offer me a beer, or do I have to steal one?"

She grins, snapping her fingers at one of the guys standing around. "Hey, Pedro, move your ass and get my cousin a drink." She pulls me down onto the couch, the material rough and lumpy. The Shay's, it is not. "What goes on Sam? How's Carly?"

I catch the beer Pedro tosses at me, slamming to bottle cap off on the coffee table. The smell of it makes me sick, but I take a long draught anyway. "I got kicked out."

Annie snorts, looking at me with something like pride on her face. "How'd you do that?"

I take another long swig, staring straight through Annie. "I fucked her."

Annie stares at me for a few moments. "Seriously?"

I nod simply, tracing my fingers over the chill bottle, the condensation wrinkling my fingertips. Annie's eyes narrow. "You love her?"

I swallow the last mouthful of beer, slamming it down on the table. "Hey! Pedro, keep 'em coming." I turn back to Annie. I know she already knows, we're partners in crime. Hell, we're accessory to more things than I can remember. But I know she wants to hear me say it. "Yeah. I do."

Annie smiles slightly, taking a swig of her beer and turning away. "Bummer."

I feel what could almost be a smile, and a surge of relief. She understands. I know she does. I know because she's not asking questions, she's just nodding and accepting it. It's all I've wanted; not disbelief that I could feel anything, not anger that I've hurt her. Just acceptance. Just understanding. I can tell she doesn't think any differently of me than when I first got here, and it's the one time I've been glad of apathy. I mean, she cares about me, but she's apathetic about circumstances. I could throw a bottle through her window, I could set her apartment on fire and she wouldn't give a fuck. I know, I've done both those things.

A comfortable silence hangs between us, broken only by Pedro's gracious tossing of the beer bottle, foam spilling over the top when I slam the cap off. Annie turns back to me as I take my first chill sip. "It's been too long Sammy. Come on, it's time to party." She stands, holding her hand out to me and tossing her empty bottle on the carpet.

I didn't come here for help. I didn't come here to work things out. I didn't come here to think. I came to forget. And sure, it's not high-minded, it's not mature, it's not dealing, but I'm so fucking sick of thinking. Thinking about her. Feeling like I can't live without her. I just wanna forget her, just for a little while. I take Annie's hand, licking the foam from my lips.

It's time to party.

**A/N: I know what you're thinking – drugs are fun.**

**No, I'm kidding. I know y'all don't do drugs, 'cause you're all high on life!**

**Seriously though, once you get those insects off you, review.**

**I'll get started on the spiral that is the next chapter. Time to bust out the hard liquor.**


	22. Chapter 22: Afloat

**Disclaimer: Things I don't own – iCarly. A trained monkey. Radium.**

It takes me a while before I stop feeling anything. I started to get scared, actually, because I kept drinking and drinking; just anything I could get my hands on, and she was still there. Carly was still all I could think about. It just sort of hits me all at once, things start to drift away, and I let them slip through my fingers. It feels so good not to care. I can still feel it there – the sadness... the pain, but it's fuzzy, and I can't see it properly. It's a relief, but it's not enough.

It's not like it used to be. Drinking used to be fun. I never got drunk all that often, mainly because it was just a reminder of mom, and I didn't want to feel like her. Sometimes though, especially when I stayed with Annie, we'd party and it'd feel so good. I'd feel invincible.

I got drunk with Carly once. Just once, when I smuggled some beers and a bottle of vodka over and Spencer was asleep. She'd made a face when she had one of the beers, and I told her it wasn't about the taste, it was about the feeling you got when you drank enough. The glazed euphoria that you can brush with your fingertips and sense surrounding you, but just can't quite connect to. I'd felt it as she fell asleep that night, and I wrapped my arms around her, enveloped by this warm, radiant, happiness. It almost made me cry. I didn't get drunk in front of her again. I couldn't take that risk... I knew I'd do something... touch her some way, say something, do something that would tip her off, that would tell her I was in love with her.

I eye the pill that's been slipped into my hand, my vision blurring in and out of focus. I shrug and wash it down with a burning shot, swallowing the cough I can feel. Not that it matters now. She knows everything, and it's not enough. Nothing's ever enough. Fuck. I can still... I can't stop thinking about her. I want so badly to forget, just for a moment, just for a _second_ about her. I just want it to be easy, to not have to remember. To just be... free. Why does it have to be so hard? Why did I have to love her... love anyone? It's too hard... there's too much that can go wrong, and it all hurts so much. It's so easy to break, and I've always been clumsy.

I sit down, my head spinning. It's supposed to be an escape, but it's just penning me in even further, my thoughts running around like rats in a maze. It's not like it used to be. That euphoria is gone, it's just... I'm washed out, but I'm still not free from her. Just for a second, just for a second to forget her. It's all I want. Just... just a second.

I take a deep breath, my head in my hands, and I can't stop my shoulders from shaking, can't stop the dry sobs from heaving out of me. I can't feel anything, just an overwhelming sadness that's choking me, suffocating me like some giant hand, squeezing me. I can't feel my hands, tugging desperately in my hair, can't feel the rough material of the couch, or the night air. The outside of me is numbed, and I only wish my insides were the same. I can't even stop myself from crying, no... weeping, my body so racked with spasms that I feel like a hooked fish, flopping desperately just to stay alive, even when I'm already dying.

Everything's spinning. It's so... dark and bright. Flashing... flashing shadows. So warm, and sweating. It's funny, and I can't help but laugh. Laugh at the people pushing against me, 'cause I can't feel them, even when they force me back. It's like a fight that nobody's trying to win, but I push back too, because I can't not. I laugh, but my face is wet, and I don't know why, and I press against the wall for a moment, because it's cool and I don't feel real. I need to feel something real, and I trace my fingertips over the bumpy surface of the wall. It's real. It's a buoy in an ocean. I don't wanna drown – I don't. Nobody's listening, no one can feel, and my lips are moving, begging, touching against the wall. I'm out at sea, and I'm starting to feel seasick, my stomach churning. I just... everything needs to stop moving. I push off the wall, stumbling past the shadowy figures. They start to scare me, because I can't see their faces. Are they even real? Real people have faces, don't they? I feel uneasy, struggling harder to push through them, shifting and shaping, sliding around me. My stomach's flip-flopping, a gush of saliva flooding my mouth, and I struggle to swallow. I slump next to the toilet, my stomach heaving, all the poison I've downed coming back up in uncontrollable pulses. I'm thankful that at least I can't taste anything, but it drains me. I'm so weak now, and I look at my hand, watching it tremble with fascination, even as dry retches still clutch at my body, my stomach clenching itself into a tight little ball. I take deep breaths through my mouth, leaning back against the slick-feeling tiles.

My mind is buzzing, buzzing, humming inside my skull, and I feel like if I move my eyes just right I'll flick a switch in it and _bam! _everything'll be clear, it'll make sense. It's a tip of the tongue feeling, and I put my shaking hand to my heart, because it should know. It's beating in a language I can't understand, and it's jumping everywhere to places I can't follow, but I listen, trying to decode it. I'm so disconnected... I'm a dial tone with no one dialling. Just noise. I touch my tongue to the back of my teeth, run them over my lips and really _feel_ it. I want someone. I need someone. I want to be touched, want to feel things, not inside, just outside. I can feel her coming and I try to move away, try to push against her but she's there, invading my mind, and there's no barrier to stop the memory, the sensation of kissing her, of touching her. I can smell her, her scent filling my lungs, and everything's so clear I just want her to be here.

But she's not. She's not. Carly, Carly, Carly, Carly. I was so stupid to think I could forget her. I don't deserve to ever forget her. It hurts, but I deserve to be hurt. I've ruined... everything. For her, for myself. It was better how it was, and I wish... I wish nothing had ever happened between us. It would've been easier. I miss her... I miss her so much. I just want her to tell me everything's okay, that this was all a bad dream. I just... I just wish things were different.

I wake up, my mouth sour, curled up on Annie's futon. I don't remember much... just... flashes. I don't remember how I got to be on Annie's futon, and I don't remember getting this cut on my arm. I touch it gingerly, hissing, and it feels hot and painful. I stand unsteadily, putting a hand to my head as it starts throbbing in earnest. My mouth is dry, my tongue feeling furry, and I can still feel the alcohol coursing through my veins, making my legs feel like jelly.

I make my way to the kitchen, inadvertently kicking a few people passed out on the floor. It doesn't seem to bother them. Annie's leaning against the counter, halfway through a sandwich, and it makes me realise how hungry I am, my stomach growling in protest. I feel hollowed out, except this time I know what to do to fix it. Annie catches sight of me.

"Hey Sammo, just in time for breakfast. Or lunch, whatever." She takes another big bite of the sandwich, and my stomach twinges in envy. Annie gestures to the bread on the table, a package of ham beside it, and I move to it eagerly, already salivating. I slap together a sandwich, biting into it hungrily and slumping into a chair at the table. I wince as my arm strikes the wooden surface, the cut throbbing angrily. Annie comes over, taking my hand and turning it so my cut is face up, running along the underside of my forearm. "How's your arm?"

I swallow hard, a lump of ham and bread sliding down my throat. "Confusing. I don't even remember doing it."

Annie nods in sympathy. "Shame. It was pretty epic how you sprained that guy's wrist." She notices my confused look. "Arm wrestling." She pushes against my shoulder lightly, grinning. "Don't worry, you won! But you cut your arm on the corner of the table."

I nod, swallowing the last of the sandwich and licking my fingers, already starting to make another one. My head's still throbbing, my mouth still dry, but I'm still far too hungry to do anything about it, just taking a moment to rub my temple, trying to abate the throbbing. I jump at a hiss and a clatter, and then Annie's handing me a beer, foam bubbling over the top of the bottle. "Hair of the dog!" She says, howling a little, and I grin at her, protesting as she takes the rest of my sandwich off me and takes a bite. She's right though, my headache lessening as I take a long draught of the chilly beer. I set the half-empty bottle down, patting my clothes.

"Hey, where's my phone? And my cash?"

Annie rifles through her pockets, pulling out my phone and setting it on the table, along with a slightly smaller wad of money. "You were pretty out of it, so I took your stuff." I nod, it makes sense. If anyone was gonna steal from me, I wanted it to be Annie, 'cause at least I got most of it back. I check my phone. Fuck. Five missed calls. From Carly. I set my phone back down on the table. My mind's flicking too fast for me to follow at the moment, racing too fast. I want... I want to talk to her, but... Fuck.

She's not going to college. She's not trying. She's not her – she's throwing away everything because she thinks I'm worth it. I'm not. I don't deserve her, and she deserves a lot better than me. She deserves a future. I can't stop myself from being a fuck up, but I can stop myself from fucking her up anymore than I already have. She deserves a life, a good life, and she can't have it with me. I drag everyone down. She's better off without me. Everyone is.

I switch my phone off, downing the rest of my beer. I belong here. I was stupid to think I was better than my mom, that I could be different. I was stupid to think I could escape. I go to the fridge, taking out another beer and slamming the top off on the counter. Annie watches me, and I toss her a beer. "Let's get this party started." I say to her, forcing a smile on my face and raising the beer in a toast.

**A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I was... doing some research, so to speak.**

**So please review, and justify my pounding headache. I'd drink some water... but... ew, water!**


	23. Chapter 23: Indelible

**Disclaimer: Yeah... still... still no. Ahhh, sad...**

"This is nice."

I nod, snuggling into Carly further, my arm slung around her waist. "Mmm." I murmured sleepily, kissing the back of her bare shoulder. Carly took my hand in her own, lacing our fingers together and bringing my hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against it.

Carly shuffled around, turning to face me. "Sam..." Her eyes are so clear, boring into me, and I find it hard to meet her intense, coffee-coloured gaze. My eyes drop to her lips, a perfect cupid's bow, and so pink I'm sure that if I kissed her, it'd stain my lips, and she'd be on me forever. I want to kiss them, but I feel so sleepy, and I can't seem to move, only stare at her. Her lips quirk in a smile, her hand stroking down my arm, and I shiver, smiling in response, her touch tingling along my skin. Everything is perfect. Everything is so clear, and I feel more real than I have in a long time. "Sam..." I furrow my brow. Her voice sounds further away, like we're underwater, and I shake my head to clear it. I have to stay awake. As much as I'd love to fall asleep in her arms, I'd rather stay awake and watch her. I want to engrave this moment in my memory, because everything so fleeting, so temporary. Her fingers tiptoe down my arm, and the smile fades from her face, her hand pausing. "You have a cut."

My brow furrows in confusion, and I look down to my arm, turning it to see. My eyes widen as I see a thin red line appear on the unblemished underside of my forearm. Carly's finger traces along the pale skin, the line following her, like she's unzipping my skin. "You see it?" She says softly, and I look at her, perplexed. I jump as a throb of pain pulses through my arm, and I look back at it in panic. The line's bigger now, an angry red slash that's still creeping along my arm, widening as it goes.

"C-carly?" I say, my voice trembling, gasping as another jolt of pain bursts through me. "A-ah-" I hiss. I can't seem to move, can only watch, my eyes flicking between her and my arm.

Carly tilts her head at me, her gaze curious. "Does it hurt?" She prods my arm, and I cry out, looking at her in scared confusion as she presses her thumb against the cut harder, blood welling forth and staining her palm.

"Yes." I whisper, and things start to blur in and out of focus, a haze of pain sweeping over me.

She smiles, raising her bloody hand to my face, her fingers leaving a sticky trail along my cheek as she gently strokes it. "Good. It should."

I sit up with a gasp, putting my hand to my cheek. My head throbs angrily in unison with my arm, and I groan, putting my head in my hands. My mouth feels like an ashtray, the remnants of my dream still haunting me. I can still feel her. I swing my legs off the futon, a few bottles and cans clattering onto the floor at my movement. I get up with an effort, blinking my eyes blearily. It's too bright, and my eyes are having trouble adjusting, even to the muted light that filters into the apartment. I stumble to the bathroom, using the walls for support, my legs feeling like rubber.

I look in the smeared mirror as I wash my hands, and I finally look like I feel. Terrified. My eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red from smoke and tears. The surface of my lips is cracked, and I run a dry tongue over them, having little effect. I raise a dripping hand for a moment, debating whether to comb it through my tangled hair or not. But what's the point? I swipe my hand across the mirror instead, sending rivulets of water across the smooth surface. I turn away, exiting the bathroom, stretching gingerly in the hall and wincing as my various pulled muscles make themselves felt. I wander into the kitchen. Wandering seems to be the only kind of movement I can make anymore. I have nowhere to go, nothing to do. I just go where my body tells me. My mind's not there. I've shut it off. But I can't stop dreaming. A part of me doesn't want to. It hurts, but I don't want to forget her. Not entirely. My dream is fading, and I clutch at it desperately. It was almost like being with her again, and I'd kill myself if I knew death would be like that – a never-ending dream.

I've tried to reason with myself in my rare moments of lucidity, tried to tell myself that it's Carly's decision. Told myself that if I just talked to her, I could get her to go to college, tell her I'd do what it takes to get in too, or at the very least do anything I could to be with her. I could do it too. I've always been able to talk Carly into things. I'm nothing if not persuasive. But this is just one thing. It's one thing she can't have, and even if I talked her into going, made her think everything was gonna be okay, there'd be another thing. Another thing she couldn't have because of me. And even if we fixed that, there'd be another. I'm not an easy person to live with, especially if you have dreams that last longer than a day. I'd do everything I could for her, but it's not enough. I know myself too well, know the kind of person I am. Carly's normal, and I mean that in the best way possible. She's the kind of girl who lives a normal life, a good life. A decent life. The kind of life I'd give her... sure, it'd have its good times, but it'd have its bad too, and, knowing me, more bad than good. Rollercoasters are only fun for so long; after a while, they start to make you sick.

I couldn't give her a good life. I couldn't work a steady job, couldn't live in a nice little house in the country, couldn't stay still. Sure, Carly has some money she's earned from the webshow, but that'd only last so long. I love her, so much, but it's not enough. Love doesn't make everything better, no matter how much I'd like to believe that.

When Spencer confronted me, it made me realise something. It made me think about the future, about what kind of life Carly and I would have together. Spencer did her a favour by kicking me out. He's saved her, and I only wish I could have saved her before she needed saving. From me.

I slump down into a chair at the kitchen table wearily. I scratch my cut, the skin itching. It hurts, but it's a good kind of hurt, one that makes me grit my teeth and try to stop myself from scratching harder. I reach the top of it and stop, my fingers brushing cotton. I furrow my eyebrows. I'd thought I was just wearing a wristband or something, but it looks more like a bandage. I prod it curiously, wincing as I feel a throb of pain.

"How is it?"

I look up at Annie as she sits beside me, taking my wrist and undoing the bandage. "How's what?"

Annie raises her eyebrows at me, shaking her head. "You don't remember? You were pretty insistent about getting it done." She pulls the bandage off and I wince, the skin throbbing.

Carly. It's what it says, in cursive across my wrist, the letters richly black. A tattoo. So I'd never forget her, no matter how hard I tried. I smile brokenly. "It's fine." I touch it gingerly. The skin's inflamed, the ink shiny and bordered with red, and I don't care that it hurts anymore. She's part of me. Forever. It seems right that it hurts, and I press my fingers against it harder, welcoming the pain. It's what it should feel like.

A tear spatters onto my wrist, hot, and it's followed by another and another, and I'm shaking, a soft smile on my face, and I don't take my eyes off those black letters, even as Annie wraps her arms around me, making comforting sounds and rocking me back and forth and I take a gasped, liquid breath. They're just letters, and by themselves they mean nothing... but together... they're her. They mean so much. She'll always be with me, the only way that won't hurt her – only me.

It's a climb. A long, exhausting, nauseating climb. Just to get to that place where I don't think about her, the place where I can't think about anything. Where I can barely even move, where I'm barely alive. It doesn't feel good. I'm not doing this... I'm not drinking, and taking all this shit to feel good. I'm doing it to not feel anything. Just... nothing. Until I can look at that tattoo, until I can think of her, and not feel anything. Just think, in faraway, abstract thoughts, that I miss her, that I love her. Emotions that I remember, but just can't feel anymore.

I can see Annie watching me, answering the people around her absently, taking small sips of her beer, an occasional joint hanging from her lips. She's the only thing unmoving in the room, where everyone's buzzing and shifting, and I can't follow them. I watch her watch me, my eyes heavy and glassy, and it's hard to focus on her. It's too hot and too stuffy, and I wanna go outside, but there's lead in my veins weighing me down. So I just watch her, because she's the only thing I can focus on. She's worried. I know. I feel bad about that. I'm making her feel bad.

I shake my head groggily. These thoughts are hard to wade through, and I take another sip of a drink I can't taste. It doesn't help, but I'm in a place I can live. A place I can endure, at least.

I'm making her feel bad for giving me all this stuff. For letting me drink, for letting me take stuff, even when she can she I'm upset. She likes rules about as much as I do, and I can tell she's conflicted. Annie doesn't like to set rules, but she can see what I'm doing, can see I'm not okay. She's gonna say something. I can tell. But not now. I can see it in the way she purses her lips, setting her drink down. She kneels by me, tilting my face up to her and examining my eyes. Making sure I'm okay. She brushes my bangs out of my eyes, and her hand is cool on my flushed face, and I can see her bite her lip before she stands, leaving the room. I let my head fall back to rest against the wall, feeling exhausted, but with this nervous energy throbbing through my veins that won't let me sleep.

I close my eyes, feeling my drink droop in my limp fingers before it slips out. The problem is; I have people that care about me. They're stupid to do it, I do everything I can to stop them, but they still care. I hurt them, again and again, and they still care. I don't want them to care, because if they care, I care, and I can see the pain I cause just by being there. I can't stop myself from hurting them, and I can't stop them from caring. I'm shaking, my body wracked with spasms. I'm... I'm crying again, tears seeping down my face, wetting my heated cheeks. I can't... I just can't do anything right. I try to do something to help myself... or help someone else, and it just makes things worse. I've made Annie take care of me when it's not what she wanted, I've made her feel bad about being who she is. Everything I do hurts someone else, and I just want to stop doing things. I thought that was what I was doing here. I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up. If I'm not awake, I can't hurt people. No... not asleep. I wish I just never existed. If I was never here, no one would ever have cared about me, never have worried about me. It would've been so much better.

**A/N: I know not much happened here, except more extreme negativity, but I feel it's important to the story. Please review, and let me know what you liked, how it made you feel, etc.**

**Me, I liked the dream. But that's just me – I'm an idiot. What do I know? I _am_ a little biased, after all.**

**Anyways, things will start to happen soon. This, my dear, sexy, reviewers/readers, is the lowest point in this parabola.**

**Or maybe I'm lying. Who knows? Muahaha!**


	24. Chapter 24: The Scorpion And The Frog

**A/N: Hey, you know that show iCarly? Oh... well, it's a web show that's a tv show and... oh, no I don't own it actually... :'(**

Moments. Just a series of moments. It's all life is, really. What do you have besides your memories, how else can you define your life? Without memories, what are you? My life ended when Spencer kicked me out. I take away my memories with alcohol and drugs, rob myself of moments. It's not a hundred percent effective... I still get flashes in between. I still wake up every day with moments, with memories, but they shimmer and shift. What are you without memories? A shell.

I wake up slowly, my head feeling thick and heavy, my brain like a slug of hot lead throbbing behind my eyes. My eyes flicker shut, and I let myself be pulled down into sleep again. When I wake up next, the light has changed. It's warm and orange, heating my skin where it filters through the blinds in tiger stripes. I feel my fingers twitch on my stomach, curled into loose fists, the muscles sluggish. I shift slightly, my brain stubborn. I just wanna go to sleep again. I frown, feeling myself being tugged towards awareness. Stupid bladder. That's the problem with drinking so much... it all comes out one way or another. I lurch onto my feet, stumbling into the wall. My eyes are still mostly closed, my brain still mostly asleep, and I feel my way along the wall, kicking aside bottles and cans along the way. I mumble out curse words, my lips dry and clumsy. Goddamnit it. I feel like crap.

I wash my hands, scratching my injured arm absentmindedly, avoiding the tattoo even though it itches like a mother. I don't want to damage her. It. Whatever. I lick my dry lips, my mouth sour and thick. My clothing feels weird, some of the material stiff and powdery, some folds damp and sticky. It's not surprising really, after a while it's hard to get your mouth every time. And frankly, I really don't care. I feel like shit inside, so why bother with the outside?

"Sam? That you?"

I don't bother to respond to Annie's yell. My voice is cracked and hoarse anyway. Instead I just head towards her voice, tripping over my own feet with every dragged step.

She's in the kitchen. She's always in the kitchen. I can't blame her, it's where the the food is. I sit down heavily at the table, my head still swimming. I lift the lid of a pizza box strewn across the table, taking a slice of the stale pizza. I try to ignore Annie's pointed stare at me as she leans against the counter, arms crossed. I focus instead on forcing sharp mouthfuls of pizza down my dry throat, swallowing thickly. Everything hurts. I've slept too long, and whatever buzz, whatever painkilling effect the alcohol had has worn off. I can feel all my pulled muscles, though I'm fucked if I remember when or how they happened. I can feel this burn in my heart, but it's always sort of there. Mostly I just feel... washed out. Like a shell. Like a pumpkin with it's guts carved out.

Annie pushes herself off the counter, turning to a cupboard, and I feel a small rush of relief, followed by a pang of... hurt. She's not gonna confront me... it means I can keep drinking, but... she's not gonna confront me. She doesn't care enough to try and save me. Fuck. Why can't I make up my fucking mind? Half the time I'm depressed because people care about me, the other half I spend wishing they'd care more. I don't know what I want. No – I do. I want her. I glance at my wrist again, the letters curling across clearer, the redness starting to fade.

I jump when Annie sets a glass of water down in front of me... I drift off so easily. I can't seem to hold anything in my head – I'm just so exhausted. Annie sits down across from me, crossing her arms. "Sam... we gotta talk."

I take a deep swallow of the water. It feels weird to drink something that doesn't burn after. I missed water. I set the glass down, bracing myself.

Annie sounds uncomfortable but determined. "Sam... what's going on with you? You can't keep doing this to yourself." Annie's mantra has always been to live and let live. If someone wants something, let them have it. That she's saying these things to me... I'm more fucked up than I realised if I've forced her to go against her principles.

I finish the rest of the water, wiping my greasy fingers on my pants. I lick my lips, steeling myself, the words coming uneasily. "Do... do you ever feel like everything you do is wrong? Like, no matter what you do, someone gets hurt?" Annie's brow furrows and she leans forward, uncrossing her arms. "Like... like you're poison." I say, and I'm trying to get her to understand, to see, because she's like me... she's family. I don't want to feel alone in this.

"Sam... is this... is this about Carly?"

I flinch at the sound of her name, and Annie purses her lips, studying me. "All I do is hurt her. I don't want to, I never... wanted to." Annie's looking at me, uncomprehending, and I search my brain for something, anything to get her to understand. "It's... it's like that story about the scorpion and the frog." It's a story that I've heard in school, and never understood. I thought it was so stupid, but it's true... it makes too much sense now. "The scorpion asks the frog to give him a ride across the river, and the frog says, 'No, you'll sting me.' and the scorpion says, 'If I sting you, I'll drown.' so the frog agrees. They get about halfway across the river when the scorpion stings the frog. 'Why'd you do that?' Says the frog, 'Now we'll both die.' and the scorpion says, 'I'm a scorpion, I can't help it.'"

Annie frowns. "That... that doesn't make any sense."

"The scorpion couldn't fight his own nature. He didn't want to sting the frog, but he couldn't help it."

"Sam, what does this have to do with you?"

I sigh, because I'm not even sure myself anymore. "I don't want to hurt her. That's the last thing I ever wanted, but I keep doing it. I keep bringing her down. She's better than me, so much better, and I'm making her stoop to what I am. I don't want to but _I can't help it_."

Annie stands, coming around to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Sam, what do you mean stoop to what you are?"

I shake my head, looking up at her. "Look at me." I gesture to my filthy clothes, my unkempt hair. "I'm not... good. I can't stop hurting people, even when I don't want to. I'm... I'm nothing. I'm disgusting."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Annie's head resting on her chin. I study my hands... I don't want to see Annie's face. I know it'll either be hurt or... or she'll agree, and I'm not a fan of either option.

"Does she love you?" Annie says finally, and it catches me by surprise.

"Wh-what?"

"Does she love you?" Annie repeats, her eyes boring into me, ringed with dark eyeliner.

"I- I don't know."

"Does she say she does?"

"S-she..." There was one time, when we were together... we were just watching TV, and I'd taken her hand, and just entwined my fingers with hers. I just wanted to hold her hand, just wanted to feel her. She'd looked at me with this odd expression on her face, and she'd said my name hesitantly, taking a deep breath like she was about to say something. And I'd taken one too, because it felt like one of those moments, one which you always remember, and my heart had started pounding incredibly fast. The way she was looking at me... it was the way I looked at her... that wistfulness, that yearning. But she never said it, and the moment passed. It was enough then, to know that she was on the verge... that she'd even be on the verge was more than I'd expected. I was willing to wait, because I thought for sure I'd hear it someday, and it didn't matter if she didn't say it then. I knew it anyway. "She never did."

Annie reaches out to touch my hand, and I let her cover it, because she doesn't know what else to do. "Sam this... this isn't the way to deal."

I sigh heavily, hanging my head. "I know but... I don't know what to do. I k-keep trying to forget her but I just... she's always there." I turn my arm over, seeing the tattoo. She'll always be there.

"Sam... I don't get it. You got kicked out by Spencer, right?"

I nod mutely.

"So what's this stuff with Carly? I know you miss her. Did you guys fight or what?"

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "Not... not exactly. I haven't talked to her."

Annie looks completely bewildered. "Then... what? What's the problem?"

I take a deep breath, just feeling my lungs expand, feeling my sore muscles stretch and tighten. "I took her future Annie. Come on, you know what we're like. I couldn't give her a normal life. I couldn't even give her a decent life. I can't change what I am. You know who we are."

Annie scoffs, "That's bullshit."

I look up in surprise at the scorn in her voice.

"You know how many times you've been arrested since you met Carly? Four. And did you go to juvie even once? No, you didn't. Have you been expelled from school? No. Sam, when I was your age I was breaking into cars and mugging people. I spent three years in juvie all up. So don't you fucking tell me you can't change! Hell, you're practically the goodie-two-shoes in our family since you met her. Except for Melanie... that girl's a freak. You remember when I asked you to hotwire that car? You said you couldn't... because of Carly. Or the time I asked you to help me fence some stuff? You said you couldn't do that to Carly. And don't think I didn't notice that I was missing a bracelet when you left. Don't tell me you can't change. You changed yourself for her. And you've changed now. What happened to the Puckett spirit? What happened to Sam 'Fuck it' Puckett? She's good for you Sam, don't let her go because you're too fucking stupid to see that."

I feel a burst of indignation swell in me, the chair screeching as I stand quickly. "Annie what the fuck?" I ask her.

"Man up Sam. You don't think you can give her a good life? How about you let her have a say, huh? Or are you gonna stay here and drink me out of house and home?"

"I'm not gonna ruin her life. She deserves something better." I say stubbornly, crossing my arms. "If you want me to go, I'll go, but don't tell me what to do."

Annie's face softens. "Look, Sam... you can still stay, of course you can. I'm just worried about you, that's all. I meant what I said before... you _have_ changed. I don't know you anymore. You're... you're not my little cousin anymore."

"I grew up. I'm taking responsibility for the shit I do. And I'm not gonna be responsible for ruining Carly's life."

"You can't be sure you'd do that. Hell, you could be ruining it right now. What if she loves you Sam? What if you _are_ her future? You can't think for her you know. And no matter how much you drink, it's not gonna change how you feel."

"You think I don't know that?" I spit at her, and it takes her aback. "You think I don't know how fucked up everything is? I don't know what else to do? This is the only thing I can think of to stop it hurting." I turn away from Annie, trying to hide the hot tears I feel brimming, but I can't hide the crack in my voice.

"You could talk to her."

I let my head drop. "No. I couldn't." I wrap my arms around myself, pulling my shoulders in narrower, and I close myself off. She's not gonna convince me to do this. I'm not going to let her. Even if Carly does love me... she'll get over me. She has to. And then she can be happy with someone who can give her what she deserves. But... but what if she _does _love me?

No. It doesn't matter.

I leave the kitchen, going back to the futon and shoving some half-conscious guy off it. It hurts, but it's for the best. I can't let 'what ifs' sway me. The last thing I should do is talk to her, even though I want more than anything to hear her voice again, to hear the way she says my name. To see her face light up when she sees me... that smile always gets me, always makes my heart beat faster. Just to know that she's happy to see _me_...

I have to stop this. I can't live in my memories. I push myself up off the futon, heading to bathroom and pulling a beer from the icy water-filled bathtub. It's the only way I can make them stop. It's the only way I can stop myself. It's the only way I can make everything... just... stop.

**A/N: I know that many of you are slavering for a happy ending... which probably isn't a very flattering way to describe you guys, but whatever. I tell you now, that this is the lowest point. I know I said that last chapter, but I'm not a liar! We're still in the same place... emotionally. Incidentally, I've started drinking a lot more beer since I started writing this. It's... it's probably not a good thing.**

**My burgeoning alcoholism aside, we're looking at 2-4 chapters being left. This begins the wind-up people, so please fasten your seatbelts and fix your trays in the upright position. It's going to be a bumpy ride.**

**Ha! I've always wanted to say that. Especially in my trailer-guy voice. You know the one; "This summer, prepare for the _ride of your lives_"**

**And you just read this in my voice. XD**


	25. Chapter 25: Cleansing

**Disclaimer: iCarly is not, but once was, but only in imagination-land, owned by me.**

"Here, go have a shower." Annie throws a bundled up pile at me which I catch reflexively.

"Huh? Why?" I say, confused, examining the clothes and towel I've caught.

Annie raises an eyebrow at me. "You stink."

I look down at myself. She may have a point. "So?"

"So you're having a shower one way or another. You can have a nice hot shower to yourself, or I can strip you naked and keep it cold. Your choice." Annie smiles tightly at me, and I put up my hands in surrender.

"Okay okay. I'll go." I shake my head as I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I don't know what's up with Annie... she doesn't usually snap at me like that. But then... I guess she doesn't think of me the same. She probably thinks I'm pathetic, and fair enough, because I am. I mean, I'm running away from my problems because I'm too scared to face them. It's stupid, but I can't force myself to be brave. I never have been able to. The funny thing is... I kind of thought I was being brave... you know, sacrificing my happiness for Carly's, but I'm not so sure anymore. What if Annie's right? What if Carly does... love me? No matter what I do... it's gonna hurt her. It's just easier to deal with that if I can't see her. I can pretend she's happy then.

I sigh, stepping into the shower, flinching at the first spray of cold water. I wish I could go back. Back before all of this happened. Back to when we were doing rehearsal for iCarly, and I felt that surge of bitter anger and put my hand through that prop window. I wish that I just could've told her, then maybe things would've been different... maybe they could've been better. Of course they would've been better. It's like when that glass ripped through my skin it let something out, and it all started swirling around like it was going down a drain, and now I've slipped into the pipes, and I'm looking up at the light, remembering how it used to feel. It's odd how I think of the times before that as the 'happy' days. Really I was miserable... I wanted Carly so bad, it was all I could think about, it was all I could do to keep myself back from her, to keep myself... as her friend. It made me so angry, gave me such a short fuse, and maybe I would've... no, I _know_ I would've refrained from breaking that window.

I splash the hot water over my face, spitting out a mouthful. I can't think like that. If I get all caught up in 'what ifs' and 'could've beens' then it'll kill me. Hell, while I'm at it, why not go back to the day I met Carly, why not just never meet her? That'd simplify everything. Or even back to when I was born; it's not that hard to kill a baby.

I can't live in the past, I can't dwell on this shit. But it's not like I have anything else.

I let the hot water relax me, feel the tension in my body start to ease. I forgot how nice showering can be, how much it refreshes you. I massage the shampoo into my scalp, teasing out the long, blonde locks, and I start to feel a little more energetic, start to feel just a little less sick. I've taken the easy road. I realise that now. I thought I was doing the brave thing, the noble thing... I thought I was doing what was best for Carly. But I've just been running away, trying to pretend none of this ever happened. I thought I'd stopped running away, thought I was finally doing something selfless. Ha! Right, because getting wasted every night is so brave, because ignoring Carly, refusing to speak to her is so mature.

Fuck. Now that my mind is starting to clear, now that I'm starting to sober up, unable to force myself to stomach the beer since Annie and I had our little talk, I'm starting to wonder... what if I _was_ wrong? I wash the remaining shampoo from my hair, letting the water stream over my face. How do you even start to fix something like that? What if she does... did love me? What if I've ruined anything... everything that could've been. What if we could've been happy? My stomach flutters, and I feel queasy, like it's trying to rise into my throat. This is why I can't deal in 'what ifs'. They're too painful. What's done is done.

I turn off the water, reaching for the towel and patting my face dry. I feel better physically... I'd forgotten how good it feels to be clean, but mentally... I'm tearing myself apart. Every decision I make leaves me wishing I'd made the other one. I come to a fork in the road and wish for a spoon.

I slip on the clothes Annie's lent me; an faded, black motorcyle tee and a pair of tartan skater shorts that are a size too big. Annie and I have similar tastes at least. They smell like soap, and I breathe the smell in. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm going crazy... I must be, because sane people don't smell their cousin's clothes. And if they do... it shouldn't make them sad. I can't control my emotions anymore, but I force myself to pull it together. I take a deep breath and open the door, the cooler air outside the bathroom chilling my skin. I comb my fingers through my hair, heading for the kitchen. Maybe Annie can help me... I... I don't know. Maybe she can...

I freeze, and my heart stops beating for a moment. Carly. She's... she's sitting at the kitchen table, chatting to Annie. Oh. Oh God. My heart explodes in my chest all of a sudden, as if it's just remembered it has to beat, and a wave of happiness, of relief floods through me. She's... it's her. It's her and she's so... so beautiful, so achingly beautiful. The wave of joy quickly fades, and it's replaced by one of fear, of nausea, and my heart is thudding sickeningly, churning my stomach up. Carly spots me, still frozen in the doorway, and she stands quickly, the chair screeching in protest as it's pushed back. Before I know it she's hugging me, burying her face in my hair, her arms pulling me tight against her. I'm finding it impossibly hard to breath. She's... she's here.

"Sam!" Carly pulls back, holding my shoulders and running her eyes over my face, like she can't believe it's really me. I can't either. "I was so worried! I thought... you really scared me, you know?" She draws me into another hug, and I circle my arms around her, holding her too tightly because it feels so good. I plead Annie with my eyes, silently begging her to not tell Carly what I've been doing. She nods at me, and I can finally close my eyes, and sink into the embrace. It's been so long since I could hold her... I've missed it so much. This is why I had to leave... she melts me so easily, dissolves my resolve. I could never leave her... not while I'm with her. It took Spencer kicking me out to give me the courage... or the stupidity.

Carly pulls back again, smiling almost painfully wide, and I can see the beginnings of tears shimmering in her eyes.

"I'll leave you kids alone." Annie says smugly, pushing herself off the counter and heading for the opposite doorway.

Carly watches her leave, turning back to me as soon as Annie's gone. I feel her hand stroke my cheek, and then she's kissing me, backing me against the wall with her force, and they're hungry, desperate kisses that leave me breathless, leave me shivering. "I was so scared." She murmurs in between kisses, our lips making wet noises in their need.

"I'm... I'm sorry Carls." I say when she finally stops to breathe, her eyes still running over me. "Can... can we talk?"

She nods. "I think we have to."

The first thrill of seeing her is wearing off, the almost drugging effect of kissing her fading, but I'm still amazed at the way she can make me feel, the way she can make me forget everything else without even trying. But the guilt is starting to set in... how do you explain what I've done... _why_ I've done it? What made sense to me then, what seemed like the only possible thing to do when I was kicked out, when I was hurting so much, and all I wanted to do was just forget, just escape... it just sounds weak and stupid to me now.

Carly can sense the tension between us, biting her lip as she scans my face, and she takes my hand almost hesitantly, leading me over to the table. I sit heavily, Carly's hand starting to let mine go as she sits opposite me. She frowns, grabbing my wrist suddenly and turning my arm over.

"S-Sam?" She's staring at the tattoo, the curling black letters of her name seeming to almost jump off my wrist, and I duck my head. Another thing to explain. "Sam..." Her voice is soft and wondering, like she's not sure whether to scold me for being stupid or be incredibly touched.

"I just... I just wanted you with me, you know? I didn't want to forget." I say quietly, my eyes downcast.

"Why would you forget?" Carly asks, trying to see my face. "Sam... what's going on?" She asks, her voice slightly panicked when I don't answer, don't let her see me. "Why wouldn't you answer your phone? D-did it break?" Carly knows I have a history of destroying nice things, and I wish that it had broke, so I wouldn't have to hurt her with the truth.

"I switched it off." I pull it out from my pocket, setting it in the centre of the table, and Carly's looking from it to me, confused.

"Sam..."

"How's Spence?" I interject, trying to change the subject. I know... I know I'll have to explain everything, but I can't help but hope that if I distract her enough she'll forget.

"He's... he's fine. I... I didn't want him to come. He's sorry Sam, he really is."

I nod. "It's okay. He did the right thing."

Carly frowns, leaning forward. "Sam, what's going on? Why... why are you here? Why'd you turn your phone off?"

I can hear the fear in her voice. So much for avoiding the subject. I take a deep breath. "Freddie told me everything." Carly looks confused, and I continue, "He told me about school... about college. You're not going are you?"

"Sam... I don't know what you're talking about. Why does it matter if I'm going to college... I just... I haven't decided yet. What does that have to with this?"

I cross my arms, trying to get as far away from her physically as I can. "It has everything to do with this. You're not going, are you?"

Carly's eyes dart around, confusion on her face. "I... I don't know."

"What do you see in the future Carly? Where are you five years from now?"

"Sam... I don't-"

I put up my hand. "Please, just answer."

"I... I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I... I guess I..." She leans back, looking bewildered. "I really don't know."

I sigh, uncrossing my arms and resting my palms flat on the table. "Carly... you gave up your dreams for me. I know that... I- I love that, actually, but you shouldn't have to. I'm not... I'm not worth it. I don't want to ruin your life. I don't want to stop you going to college, I don't want to stop you having a future. You deserve a good life."

Carly studies her hands, her eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. She looks up finally, disbelieving. "So that's why you came here? So what, you were just never gonna talk to me?" She shakes her head incredulously. "You were just never gonna see me again?"

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Carly, I-"

She cuts me off. "No, you're gonna listen Sam. I can't believe you. How can you just decide what's best for me? You're not my mom, you're not Spencer, you don't get to do that. You're supposed to care about me, about what I have to say." I try to interrupt, to defend myself, but Carly puts her hand up, stopping me. "No! You don't get to say anything. How could you do that? It's not fair. You have no right. You know what dreams I have now Sam? Do you? They're of being with you. No, I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know if I'm going to college, and you know what? I'm fine with that, as long as I get to be with you. You know what having dreams did? It made me almost lose you, made me think I had to be that person. I don't wanna plan everything out anymore... things change Sam, you made me realise that, and I don't know what I, _me_, want anymore. All I know is that I want to be with you."

"Carly..." I say softly, taken aback. I never... never thought she'd say something like that. It makes my heart hurt so much, and it's such a good pain.

"How could you do that Sam? How could you throw me away so easily?" Carly's eyes are rimmed with tears, and that good pain, that exquisite ache falls into the pit of my stomach at her hurt expression.

"I didn't... I _never_ threw you away Carls." I stroke the tattoo on my wrist. "I just... I love you _so much_, I just... I just wanted you to be happy. I didn't want you to settle for me."

Carly takes my hand, her fingers moving to stroke along the tattoo as well, tracing the letters. "Settle for you? You're more than I ever hoped for. You know how rare it is, how lucky I am to have fallen in love with my best friend? That _never_ happens."

It feels like there's a boulder in my throat, and it's making it very hard to swallow. "L-love?"

Even through all my mistakes, all my fuckups, all my self-pitying bullshit, she still wants me. I don't know how, I don't know why, I don't know how I've fooled her into caring about me, I never have... but I'm not so stupid as to let it go again. All that noble crap, all that loving her and letting her go... that's done. She's stuck with me, and I'll never let her go again. I'm her shadow, and I'll always follow her, whether she wants it or not. I can't ever be without her.

Carly leans over the table, kissing me softly, her lips smiling against mine as she pulls back, the tip of her nose brushing mine.

"I love you Sam."

**A/N: See? Happy, right? I told you I could do it. Oh... I didn't? Then who did I... _oh._ He knows too much now.**

**Anyway, in case you haven't been paying attention, which probably means you're not paying attention _now_, please review. I'm thinking one more chapter to tie things up, you know, go all Animal House on this shit (where you found out what happened to everyone in the credits). It's probably not necessary, and it's probably not advisable, but I've never been one to know when to stop. Let's see... iDream Of You was meant to be two chapters, but it ended up being twenty-three... and this one was only meant to be six.**

**Talky thing, ain't I?**

**So please let me know what you think, because this fic will soon be over, and then we'll see each other on the street in like six months, and it'll be really awkward and I'll wave and you'll go in for a hug, but we'll just end up in an uncomfortable handshake. And by God it will be AWKWARD 0-0**

**And then I'll go home and get drunk on turpentine and remember what it was like to have friends.**

**Or I'll write another fic. Whatever.**


	26. Chapter 26: Homecoming

**Disclaimer: Carly and in particular Sam, do not, and probably should never, belong to me.**

I sneak up on Annie, tackling her and nearly knocking her down from behind. "You!" I yell. "How could you do that?"

Annie coughs, her breath knocked from her by my attack. "Sam! Get off me!" She shrugs me off, turning and putting her fists up defensively when I push her in the shoulder. She relaxes when she sees the grin on my face. She punches me in the shoulder instead, laughing. "You jerk. Fuck you!"

I hear Carly come up behind us, stopping a few feet away from me. I look back to her, and she's smiling, and honestly, I wouldn't be such a jerk if it didn't entertain her. I turn back to Annie, rubbing my shoulder.

"You going?" She asks, flicking her glance to Carly and back to me.

I nod. "Yeah."

Annie turns away. "Well here." She bends and picks up something, tossing it at me hard. I catch my pack reflexively, grinning wryly.

"Thanks."

Annie smirks. "You're welcome. I packed your stuff... well, what I could find anyway." She ruffles my hair while I squirm. "'Bout time you left anyway." She looks around the apartment. "This place _used_ to be nice."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Thanks anyway. You didn't have to help me... or put up with my shit."

Annie nods simply. "I know. But you're family kiddo. And blood is thicker than water." She smiles slightly. "Or beer."

I shoulder my pack, feeling awkward. I've never been good at goodbyes. To hell with it. I give Annie a hug, my grip a little tighter than it needs to be. I really do owe her one. She saw what I couldn't, what I didn't want to see. She tried to talk reason into me, and when that failed, she acted anyway. She may not be the best role model to some people, but she's mine all the same. After Carly that is. Annie's the only reason I'm proud to be a Puckett. She may be what I'd be without Carly, but that's nothing to be ashamed of. "Thanks." I say quietly in her ear.

Annie chuckles softly, whispering back to me. "Don't fuck it up."

I pull back from her, nodding. It's not like I need the warning, although, considering how I've done so far, I can't blame her. Carly takes my hand on the way out, and I entwine my fingers with hers. It seems like such a small thing; holding her hand. It's something I took for granted, something that became ordinary. It wasn't until I couldn't do that anymore, wasn't until I could only remember what it felt like that I realised how even something as small as that, as simple as holding her hand, meant so much more than anything else I've ever done.

We hail a cab outside Annie's, clambering inside while Carly gives the address. She keeps her hand in mine, the length of our arms brushing against each other, and I'm tempted to kiss her but for the cabbie leering at us through the rear vision mirror. And just being in constant contact with her, just feeling the goosebumps raise on my skin wherever she touches, god, just being _near_ her, it brings all the memories back. I remember what it was like to touch her, to hear her gasp and moan my name, and it's sending shivers down my spine and into me. I've tried to keep my mind out of the gutter, but it's where it's most comfortable. It's making my breath come a little faster than I want, and I wish I could rein myself in but it's her. It's just... it's _her_. Carly senses my discomfort, squeezing my hand with a lopsided grin, and I see her shift in her seat, her skin hot against mine. I smirk; at least I'm not the only one with their mind in the gutter.

The windows are practically fogged with sexual tension by the time we get to Carly's, and I'm too happy just to be with to give the cabbie a hard time for being a perv, even when I feel a spike of anger at his eyes crawling over Carly. I force it down... he's not worth it, and the last thing I want to do is be away from Carly, even for the moment it would take to make this slimeball regret having vision.

"Hey Lewbert, you miss me?" I say teasingly as Lewbert looks up from his newspaper, scowling and grumbling.

Carly leads me into the elevator, and the doors have barely shut before she's pushing me up against one of the walls, her lips finding me hungrily, and for once, I'm glad this is a slow elevator. My hands move around her waist, pulling her closer into me, and with every breath I take I can smell her perfume, in every kiss I can taste her. She's an overload on my senses, especially since this is exactly what they've been craving. She's a drug I love being addicted to.

Carly pulls away from me just as the elevator jerks to a stop, and I take the opportunity to catch my breath. I grin, "You've done this before, haven't you Carls?" I tease, smoothing out my clothes, laughing at the blush that creeps up her face.

I freeze on my way out of the elevator, Carly looking back curiously to see why I've stopped. "Uh..." I look doubtfully at a twitching Spencer. He raises a hand to his hair, smoothing it out before brushing it against his chin and back to his hair, his mouth moving like he's about to say something. "I think your Spencer's broken."

Carly glances over at Spencer dismissively. "Oh. Yeah. It's okay Spence, she's not mad." Spencer visibly relaxes, swallowing hard, and Carly points at him aggressively. "But I still am."

Spencer looks noticeably chastened. "Right. Sorry." He says quietly.

I look between the two of them, Carly turning towards me. "Spencer's sorry Sam. He never should've kicked you out. Aren't you Spence?" She says it with an edge in her voice, and I get a picture of what it must've been like while I was gone. Carly's a sweetheart, but man, can she hold a grudge. She's got a good tongue on her... believe me, I know that, but she can flay strips off you with it as well. I might be able to threaten people, but it's all physical... Carly, well, she'll make you tear yourself apart.

Spencer runs a hand nervously through his hair again. "Yeah. I am... really Sam. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry."

I raise an eyebrow at the two of them, amused. "It's okay, really. I get it... you don't have to apologise to me Spence."

"Oh no, he does." Carly cuts in, shooting Spencer a glare. Her face softens as she turns back to me. "Here, I'll take your bag up." She says in a calmer voice. I slip the pack off my shoulder, Carly carrying it upstairs.

Spencer shifts nervously on his feet, coming closer to me. "I really am sorry Sam." He looks at his feet, flinching when I hit him lightly in the shoulder.

"Dude, it's okay. _Really_."

He lets out a huge breath. "_Ohthankgod_." Spencer engulfs me in a tight hug, almost crushing me. "I was so worried!"

I'm reminded, as spots appear in front of my eyes, how much Spencer and Carly are actually alike. Not just family traits either... Spencer may not seem like much of an authority figure, in fact, he needs more looking after than Carly, but he's a good role model, and I know Carly respects him. I've seen the qualities he's passed onto her, the values, the morals, and I'm thankful for that, because without him, Carly would've gotten those things from me, and the last thing I want is for her to be like me. "Spence... ah...Spence?" I cough, my breath being crushed from me. "Need...to...breathe..."

Spencer releases me, and I gasp in a breath, coughing as Carly comes back down the stairs. She looks between us, crossing her arms. "Spence, what did you do?"

"I was just _hugging _her." Spencer protests.

"What, like a bear?" Carly says sardonically.

"Bears are very affectionate!"

I can't stop a smile from creeping across my face. If being with Carly is happiness, than this – this is contentment. It's the family I never had, and never deserved, yet have somehow got anyway. I've done well for a Puckett... I've found happiness, and even when I was stupid enough to let it go, it came back to me anyway. I'm home, and nothing will take me away again.

**A/N: Technically, this would serve as an ending. However, that's not the case. I, being extremely insecure and invested in other people's opinions, have read and dwelt upon your reviews, and I've noticed one thing in particular. Well... two things. The first is for some sweet Cam loving, and frankly, I'm in complete and total agreement... I mean, I wrote the damn story! That's its whole purpose. The second, to tie in the webshow. So you now know what to expect in the next chapter. And then I can work on the three _other_ stories I was stupid enough to start and now am obligated by my own strict moral code to finish.**

**But enough of my ranting while staring fervently into mirror, it's time for you to rant! Well, review. And really, those reviews mean more than you might know. They, much like a delicious banana split at the appropriate time, or free chocolate milk (which I recently received YAY!) make my day. They are my oasis in an ironically dessert-free desert.**

**...But now I sound needy. So... whatever. I'm cool.**


	27. Chapter 27: We Can Do This

**Disclaimer: iCarly isn't owned by me, and frankly, it's probably for the best. I don't think they'd air _my _show :/**

"I'm Sam-"

"-And she loves ham!"

"And this is iCarly!" We say in unison, gesturing widely.

I've only been back a few days, but it feels like I never left. I'm grateful for that... I don't think I could take it if things were different, if Spencer or Carly looked at me differently. And Freddie? Well, I don't want that boy looking at me at all. At first he was all apologetic, and I know it's partly because Carly had a little word with him, or rather, a lot of little angry words, and I'd defend him if it wasn't so fun to see him trampled. He really didn't have anything to do with it. I made my own decisions, and they sucked. But that'd be too easy, just letting him off the hook. He'd be suspicious, and the boy flinches enough around me already. So a twisted arm and some rug-burn later and Freddie was back to treating me like he always did.

It was actually Freddie who got me and Carls to do iCarly again. He said that now everything was better and 'back to normal' that we should start doing it again. I think he just missed his tech toys; they're the closest things to friends he has. iCarly has always been a coping mechanism for us, whenever any of us would have a problem, it was always the show that helped us get through that. I've missed it so much, just being able to be an idiot with Carly; it makes me remember why we do it, why we keep doing it. Not for the fans, not for the money, but because it's _fun_, because it makes us happy.

"So... you're probably wondering where we've been. Well, Sam here-"

"That's me!" I interject.

"Sam fell down a well."

"I thought I smelled chicken." I shrug.

Carly moves closer to the camera. "Don't worry, she's fine. Just a little..." She twirls her finger around in a 'crazy' motion.

Freddie turns the camera to face him. "Actually she was like that before."

Carly stands in front of me, holding me back. "Anyway, ow! _Sam!_"

I cease struggling. "Sorry."

"_Anyway_, we missed her. So... welcome back Sam!"

People flood into the room, music starting and a rainbow of streamers and balloons sailing down. I laugh, stumbling back as Carly basically tackles me in a hug. "Carls, did you plan this?"

She grins at me. "Maaaaaybe."

Freddie switches the camera off, ending the webcast and coming over to us. "Hey, I helped too!"

Spencer stumbles into view, out of breath, a couple of kids complaining loudly from where he shoved his way through. "Me too! I helped. Whew!" He swipes a hand across his forehead, frowning. "We have a _lot_ of stairs." He turns to Carly, holding up a fist. "Fistbump!"

She smiles tightly. "Uh, still mad at you!"

Spencer turns to me. "Fistbump!"

I bump his fist, wiping away a mock tear. "Aw, you guys!" I'm honestly touched. And I _know_ it was Carly who planned this; it's so organised, for one thing. "Now where's the food?"

* * *

"Hey Sam!"

"Gibb-ay!" I throw my hands out and pat the spot beside me. "What's up Gibb?"

He smiles proudly. "I made you a cake!"

I grin, my smile fading as I look at it. "Uh... Gibby? There's a picture of your face on it."

He nods enthusiastically. "I know, right?"

"I don't wanna eat your face!" I say, pausing. "I'll have some of your shoulder though." I reach out to scoop some cake up, a hand grabbing my other wrist. My gaze follows the hand to it's owner; Carly.

"Sam, c'mere. I wanna show you something." I look wistfully at the cake as Carly tugs me away. It just wasn't meant to be.

She pulls me into her room, locking the door behind us. It's quiet, only the muffled sound of the music filtering through. It's also dark, only Carly's lamps on. I turn to Carly, confused. "What's going on?"

Carly smiles, leaning against the door. "I have another surprise for you."

"Really?" I look around, excited. "What is it? Is it ham? It's a ham, isn't it?" I fight to stop myself bouncing up and down.

Carly shakes her head, laughing. "Wow. You're really not perceptive, are you?" She approaches me, her fingers creeping around my waist, and I start to get it.

"So it's not ham?" I tease as Carly tilts her head towards me.

"Nope." She says softly before our lips meet. The kiss starts gentle, Carly's lips barely caressing mine, just brushing against them lightly. Her hands tighten their grip around my waist, pulling me into her, and I break the kiss as it starts to get more intense.

"What about...well, everyone? What if someone comes looking for us?"

Carly kisses me softly. "No one's gonna come looking for us." She kisses me again. "Trust me."

She takes my wrist, bringing it to her lips and gently kissing over the tattooed letters, tracing the outline of her own name. I swallow hard. I've only been back a few days, but when I was gone, it felt like forever without her. All I wanted to do was have her in my arms again. I wanted to kiss her, and touch her, and do all the things my body and my mind were begging me to do. But I couldn't, even now. Spencer knew about us now, and while he seemed to be fine with it, almost... happy even, he still wasn't dumb enough to leave us alone together. The problem was, there _were_ still times that I was alone with her, and they were spent desperately kissing her, my hands fumbling over Carly's clothes in the brief time we had. It wasn't enough though. Those times only served to torture me more, and I knew Carly felt it too. Knew when she pushed against me during those times, her breath hot on my neck, hands sliding along the skin of my back. It was like this huge pressure just building and building without release. It was like before we together, when she didn't know how I felt; every touch meant more than what it was. It was worse now though, because I knew exactly how good touching her could be.

Carly leads me to the bed, her hand entwined with mine. She's achingly beautiful in the muted light, and I can feel my heart pounding so hard in my chest I'm sure it'll overload and kill me. I could die this way, die from happiness. Her fingers trace over my face, her lips following as she pushes me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me. She pulls away for a moment, her eyes tracing over my face. "I love you so much Sam. You know that, right?"

There's this sharp thing in the back of my throat, like a sliver of broken glass, and I try to swallow past it. Hearing her say that, hearing her whisper it to me, her eyes steady on mine... I'll never get tired of hearing it, and I never want her to stop saying it. "I love you too Cupcake." I manage to choke out. And then her hands are fumbling at my clothes, lifting my shirt over my head, her breath rushed. She's trying, with difficulty, to take it slow, trying to show me how much she cares, but it's not necessary. I want this as much as her, and I unbutton her blouse with clumsy fingers, pulling the material away. I try to sit up, to reverse our positions, but she pushes me back down.

"Uh uh. This is _your_ welcome back present." She grins.

"Then let me unwrap you." I try to sit up again, with the same result.

Carly's hand brushes between my legs, rubbing against the material of my pants. "Do you really wanna argue about this Sam?"

I swallow hard, my hips pushing against her involuntarily. "N-no."

Carly's hand fumble with the catch to my pants, tugging them off, shimmying out of her own pants awkwardly in the process, and then her hand is skimming over the top of my boyshorts, a finger running underneath the waistband along my skin. I feel my body stiffen, my breath catching. I thought I was over this... thought I was past this anxiety, and it's not as bad, it really isn't. But what happened with Steve... it's never gonna go away. It's not something you forget, and my body's had it engrained into it. That one, shining, perfect time with Carly helped immensely, but it's obvious I'm still not past it. It's not something you can get past that easily. And it frustrates me so much. I want her so much, want her to touch me, make me feel those things I felt last time, and it frustrates me that my stupid body is still holding back, still tensing me up. Carly kisses me lightly and I respond, trying to relax my muscles. Stupid fucking body. I feel like it's betrayed me.

"Are you okay?"

I nod, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. I want you to, I really do."

She kisses me again, softly. "Don't say you're sorry. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have rushed so much... I'll take it slow, okay?"

I feel such a strong pang of love for her it almost chokes me. But I wish she didn't have to say those things, wish my body didn't act this way. No. I can't think like that. It's not my fault. Better it happen this way than not at all.

Carly captures me in a deep kiss, her tongue tracing over my lips to caress my own tongue, and I moan throatily, feeling a sharp tug between my legs. Her hand moves over my bra, finding the hardened nipple, her thumb flicking over it and making me jerk. I feel my body start to tighten in a different way, aching for her. Carly feels me start to respond, the muscles in my thighs flexing as she teases my nipples, pleasure and lust coursing through me, agonisingly teasing. Carly's lips trace over my jawline, moving down over my pulse point and nibbling at my neck.

I'm feeling giddy, my hormones in overdrive, and the fact that there's two dozen people out there, and only a pretty flimsy door between us and them only adds to my excitement. I've always gotten a kick out of being bad. I buck up against Carly as she tweaks my nipples, her teeth grazing over my collarbone. "Unh, God... Carls..." I'm almost begging her. Screw my body, I don't care if it's not quite ready, I don't care if it's a little scared, I want her so much it's unbearable. I feel like I'm almost bursting out of my skin for want of her. Mind over matter, that's what they say, right?

Carly's breath hitches at my moan, and she moves back to my lips, capturing me in a heated kiss. I feel her hand skate over my stomach, moving down, and it makes me shiver, goosebumps raising on my skin. Her hand stops just under the waistband of my boyshorts, Carly pulling back for a moment to look at me, dropping a soft kiss on my cheek. She seems satisfied with what she sees, but I know she'd stop in a heartbeat if she thought I wasn't ready. It only makes me that much more wet for her, and every second I have to wait is agony. She seems to sense this, kissing me again, her hand slipping down further to touch me directly. Her fingers stroke over my clit, and I swear I almost come right then, just to feel her touching me, just to feel her lips against my neck, just to feel her body pressed against mine. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, my teeth digging into the soft flesh. As it is, I let out a muffled whimper, pushing against her, trying desperately to get more friction. Carly rubs harder, her own breath short and uneven. And I know I could come from this alone, but the thought of her being inside me – it makes me shudder. "I- I want... _uh_." I stammer, my words coming out clumsily as pleasure pulses through me with every stroke of her fingers.

One of the best things about falling in love with your best friend, and there a lot of things, is that I don't have to finish my stuttered sentence. She knows what I want, and the truth is I probably didn't have to say anything at all. Carly moves her fingers down further, thrusting them into me easily. My hips buck up against her involuntarily, "Oh _fuck._" I whimper, closing my eyes tight, Carly's lips gently caressing my jawline as she moves inside me. I can feel her starting to grind against my thigh, her breath hot against my neck as she moans softly. I try to fight off the climax I feel coming, my eyes starting to roll back in my head. I don't want this to end so soon, but I can't help it. It's getting closer and closer, the pressure building as Carly twists her fingers inside me. "C-Carly... I..."

Carly's breath shudders out, "I kn-know." She stutters, pumping her fingers harder, and bringing me even closer, my breath catching in my throat, as I feel myself topple over the edge. I arch my back off the bed as it rips through me, obliterating everything in a revolt of pleasure. I let out a strangled cry, my breath sobbing out, Carly whispering sweet, shivering words into my ear as I come down, her own body shuddering against mine.

My limbs are trembling, my muscles feeling light and uncontrolled, but I manage to wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as we both catch our breath, our skin heated and slick wherever it touches. Eventually Carly pushes up off me, panting lightly, a soft smile curving her lips. "We should get back." She says quietly, planting a light kiss on my lips.

I make a noise of dissent, keeping my arms tight around her. "Can't we just stay like this awhile?"

She moves off me a little, and I loosen my grip reluctantly, Carly snuggling her head into my shoulder and saying softly. "Yeah. We can."

**A/N: I'm writing this now, mid-chapter, even though you won't read it 'til the end, because I feel I have to make a point. Now I know that it'd be easier, story-wise, if everything went smoothly and there was some hitch-free Cam loving, and honestly, that's what I'd planned. But for the sake of realism, and to avoid trivialising rape as something that's easy to get over, or indeed, something that _can_ be gotten over, I've made it the way it is. As you of course realise, and which I probably don't need to say, rape is a very serious thing. I threw it in the story as a plot idea, not expecting to have to deal with the consequences (the plan being to only do six chapters), but I obviously went beyond that. That being said, I hope I've done the matter justice, and treated it with the proper gravitas it warrants.**

**Now that all the serious stuff is out of the way, let's get down to my trademark off-the-wall-slightly-pleading-because-I-want-reviews humour. Now this looks like the end, doesn't it? And it is. I'm quite happy leaving it here. _However_, I have one reader (you know who you are!), who would very much like me to continue, and I, being very insecure and oversensitive to praise, am therefore able to be talked into anything (which makes me a helluva fun date), have agreed. Sort of.**

**I shan't be continuing it here though. Most likely I'll do a sequel, but that might not be for a while.**

**So, in summation, I hope you enjoyed this fic. God knows I enjoyed and sometimes got super-depressed writing it, but it all turned out good in the end. I hope that in some small way, this affected you, because dang if that don't make me feel important. And I like pretending I'm important :)**

**So review, ye lowly readers. Okay, so not that important. Can you imagine? What a jerk I'd be.**

**Anyway, REVIEW!**

**Seriously, I love you all as much a person you don't know you can take the word of can. Which it turns out is a lot. I hug your face.**


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